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"  Such  books  as  hers  should  be  in  every  household,  to  be  read, 
loaned,  re-read  and  re-loaned,  so  long  as  the  leaves  and  cover  will 
hold  together,  — not  holiday  volumes  for  elegant  quiet,  but  stirring 
and  aggressive  works,  with  a  '  mission,1  which  is,  to  make  the  world 
better  than  they  find  it."  —  Boston  Commonwealth. 


•»*  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.     Sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  by 

JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  &  CO., 

PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON. 


SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS: 


PATIENCE  STRONG'S  STORY  OP  OVER  THE  WAY. 


BY 


MRS.  A.  D.  T.  WHITNEY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  OTHER  GIRLS,"  "  WE  GIRLS,"  "  REAL  FOLKS," 
"LESLIE  GOLDTHWAITE,"  ETC. 


VOL.  I. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES  E.  OSGOOD  AND   COMPANY. 

(LATE  TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  ASP  FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  Co.) 

1876. 


Copyright,  1876,  by 
JAMES  E.  OSGOOD  AND  COMPANT. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY 

H.  0.  HOUQHTON  AND  COMPANT. 


POSTSCRIPT 


lAj  i> 

TO  BE  PUT  AT  THE  BEGINNING.  , 

»     ' 


1st  Gravedigger.  It  may  be  all  well  enough  —  for  a  story  ; 
but  nevertheless  it  has  no  business  to  be.  And  you  see  she 
knows  it  all  the  time,  with  her  reasonings  and  her  apologies. 
What  right  had  she  to  scribble  it  all  off,  in  short  hand,  to  Rose 
Halliday  —  whoever  that  is  ? 

2d  Gravedigger.  Why,  Rose  Halliday  is  an  alter  ego.  Can't 
a  woman  talk  to  herself,  if  she  has  no  privilege  elsewhere  ? 

1st  Gravedigger.  But  here  it  is  in  a  book.  And  the  world 
has  got  it ;  at  least,  as  much  of  the  world  as  will  pay  any  atten 
tion.  And  it  has  all  just  happened  ;  a  couple  of  years  ago. 

2d  Gravedigger,  solemnly.  My  dear,  do  you  properly  appre 
hend  what  a  book  is  ?  It  is  an  utterly  impersonal,  abstract  irre 
sponsibility.  It  is  a  mere  medium ;  a  battery  of  type  plates, 
which  you  hold  by  its  two  covers,  to  receive  a  magnetic  current. 
And  the  little  black  characters  upon  which  you  fix  your  eyes  are 
hypnotizers.  The  book  tells  you  nothing.  You  simply  perceive. 
The  places,  persons,  occurrences,  are  or  have  been,  and  you  come 
into  intuitive  relations  with  them. 

1st  Gravedigger.  I  can't  see  it  in  quite  such  a  boneless  light. 
It  is  a  thing  deliberately  done ;  written,  printed,  published. 

2d  Gravedigger.  Well ;  even  so,  the  book  and  the  story  had 
to  be. 

1st  Gravedigger.     "  I  do  not  of  that  see  the  necessity." 

2d  Gravedigger.  And  possibly  —  as  might  have  been  retorted 
to  the  original  sarcasm,  —  there  may  not  be  a  like  vital  necessity 
that  you  should.  —  We  've  had  it,  anyway  ;  and  we  've  done 
with  it.  Put  it  up  on  the  shelf;  we  will  begin  the  new  one ;  it 
has  been  out  three  days  already. 


CONTENTS. 


40  iPTIB 

I.  ABOUT  THE  BEGINNING 

II.  CORNER  BISCUITS 

III.  STEP-EVERYTHING 

IV.  PACKING  AND  POCKETS 

V.  SHIP-RIGGING 

VI.  THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER  :  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS 

VII.  GATE-WAYS 

VIII.  UP  BY  EXPRESS 

IX.  SHOPS,  OR  SHRINES 

X.  IN  LADY  CHRISTIAN'S  GARDEN 

XI.  A  STRAW 

XII.  THE  DISCIPLES  TO  THE  MULTITUDE     .... 

XIII.  FANCY-MAIL  :  AND  HALDON  HOUSE    .... 

XIV.  THE  LORD  WARDEN  AT  DOVER 

XV.  REALLY  ABROAD 

XVI.  A  TALK  ;  AND  A  TRUSTING 

XVII.  PLEASURES  AND  PALACES 176 

XVIII.  THE  EVERLASTING  GATES 187 

XIX.  ON  THE  HOUSETOP      .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .190 

XX.  STEPPING  IN 197 

XXI.  YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY 204 

XXII.  BEFORE  MONT  BLANC 214 

XXIII.  THE  SEA  OF  ICE          ....  ...    220 

XXIV.  DAILY  BREAD;  AND  DOUBLES       .....        230 
XXV.  FROM  ARVE  TO  RHONE      .......    244 

XXVI.  INCIDENT 261 


VI  CONTENTS. 

XXVTI.   MISTS  ;  AND  SIGNS        .......  267 

XX YIIL   THE  SCHRECKHOEN 280 

XXIX.   EDELWEISS 285 

XXX.   RIVER-PLUNGE  ;  AND  CLOUD-SEA      ....  290 

XXXI.   OVER  THE  BRUNIG  :  THE  LAKE  :  RHIGI    .        .        .  299 

XXXII.  NOONTIDE  AND  MORNING  UPON  RHIGI     .        .        .  303 

XXXIII.  A  FERN  LEAF ?H 

XXXIV.  THE  HEM  OF  A  STORM 317 

XXXV.  DOWN  INTO  THE  SUMMER 331 

XXXVI.   SANTA  MARIA  DEGLI  ANGIOLI         .        .        .  338 


SIGHTS   AND    INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
ABOUT  THE  BEGINNING. 

PATIENCE    STRONG   TO   KOSE   HALLIDAY. 

OLD  FARM,  12/A  June,  187-. 

....  MY  first  introduction  to  her,  —  I  do  not  mean  the 
naming  of  our  names  by  a  third  person  ;  that  never  happened  at 
all,  and  it  was  more  than  nine  months  afterward  that  we  found 
each  other  out  by  name  ;  —  but  my  first  introduction  to  her  — 
and  it  takes  a  good  many,  first  and  last,  before  you  come  to 
knowledge  —  was  in  the  little  east  parlor  of  the  Giant's  Cairn 
House  at  Outledge,  where  I  had  been  staying  five  weeks,  and 
where  she  had  just  arrived. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning.  I  was  going  to  take  the  6.30 
train  down  to  Boston.  There  are  cars  between  Boston  and 
Outledge,  now,  all  the  way,  and  we  all  inveigh  against  them  and 
take  them,  just  as  we  do  other  new  things  that  supersede  the 
old,  though  we  may  all  say  the  old  is  better. 

Mrs.  Regis  had  come  by  the  evening  express  the  night  before, 
and  had  had  tea  in  her  room  at  ten  o'clock.  I  had  heard  an 
arrival,  and  a  great  dragging  of  big  trunks  past  my  door  in  the 
long  wing ;  but  I  had  never  thought  of  it  again  until  I  came 
into  the  little  parlor,  ten  minutes  before  the  whistle,  to  pick  up 
my  bag  and  shawl,  that  I  had  laid  there  when  I  went  to  break 
fast,  and  saw  this  picture  before  the  lire.  I  took  a  negative  of 
it,  half  unconsciously,  which  I  found  developing  after  I  got 
through  my  little  hurries,  and  was  safely  off  in  a  big  arm-chair 


2  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

in  the  Pullman  car,  with  my  parcels  all  put  up,  and  my  novel 
in  my  lap  waiting  till  I  was  tired  of  other  things,  and  wanted 
it ;  which  case  I  have  never  yet  come  to  in  a  railway  journey, 
though  the  novel  is  always  there. 

A  railway  ride  is  such  a  good  chance  to  read  things  that  are 
not  printed. 

That  little  picture  of  Mrs.  Regis,  which  I  took  off  without 
her  knowledge  or  my  own,  at  the  moment,  came  out  so  very 
clear  before  me  ;  it  seemed  to  tell  me  a  whole  story.  After 
ward,  I  came  to  know  something  of  how  much  my  first  impres 
sion  might  be  worth  ;  I  have  yet  a  great  deal,  I  dare  say,  if  we 
go  on  to  get  acquainted,  both  to  verify  and  to  rectify.  It  is 
funny  what  a  mixture  of  surprising  facts  and  mistaken  conclu 
sions  these  first  impressions  often  turn  out  to  be.  But  I  always 
take  care  of  that  first  negative.  It  is  a  key  ;  if  you  don't  turn 
the  lock  the  wrong  way  with  it. 

She  was  so  very  handsome,  to  begin  with ;  sitting  there  alone 
in  the  one  large,  deep-cushioned  rocking-chair  before  the  fire, 
that  crackled  with  its  first  clean  morning  brightness ;  her  feet, 
pretty  and  trim,  though  not  so  very  small,  set  comfortably,  in  a 
ladylike  way,  on  the  low  fender.  And  she  was  so  fresh  and 
comfortable.  I  described  her  just  now,  —  as  we  often  describe, 
and  credit  to  minor  details,  that  which  gives  the  mood  and  color 
to  our  general  apprehension,  —  when  I  spoke  about  the  fire. 
Crackling  with  the  first  clean  morning  brightness.  That  was 
what  she  was,  and  what  I  have  noticed  her  always  since  to  be. 
There  came  an  electric  perception  of  freshness  all  over,  with 
just  looking  at  her.  She  gave  a  sensation  of  how  nice  it  was  to 
be  just  up,  and  bathed,  and  dressed.  As  Mrs.  Gradgrind,  or  a 
more  cheerful  person,  might  have  said,  there  was  a  face  in  the 
room  pink  and  smooth  with  good  rest,  and  cold  water,  and  the 
pleasantness  of  a  morning  blaze,  and  you  didn't  know  whether 
it  was  somebody's  else  or  yours.  Really,  looking  at  her,  it 
did  n't  seem  to  make  much  difference,  the  sense  of  it  was  so 
keen. 

It  was  in  face,  and  hair,  and  dress,  and  all ;  in  such  perfect 
unruffled  adjustment ;  out  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  that  with 
two  or  three  splendid  rings  upon  them,  touched  each  other  in  a 


ABOUT   THE  BEGINNING.  3 

sort  of  delight  of  delicate  quiet,  as  she  leaned  them  together, 
her  elbows  resting  upon  the  chair-arms  ;  and  down  to  the  slip 
per-rim  that  framed  the  plump  instep  in  its  fine  white  stocking. 

I  am  not  beginning  a  novel,  Rose ;  at  least,  I  don't  believe  I 
am  ;  though  I  have  fallen  into  such  a  story-like  kind  of  descrip 
tion.  You  asked  me  about  her,  and  how  it  came  to  pass,  so  I 
want  you  to  begin  where  I  did,  and  see  her  as  I  saw  her  at  the 
first.  She  and  I  are  going  to  be  a  good  deal  to  each  other,  in 
one  way  or  another,  for  a  little  time  to  come  ;  and  it  does  seem, 
just  to  look  at  her  and  me,  rather  queer  that  it  has  happened. 

She  had  a  widow's  cap  on,  which  was  so  absolutely  un 
touched  in  its  freshness  that  it  was  a  wonder  how  it  had  ever 
got  made  up,  or  set  upon  her  head.  I  almost  'spected,  as  I  re 
viewed  it  deliberately  in  my  mental  negative,  that'it  must  have 
growed.  Three  little  cloudy  puffs  framed  exactly  the  clear  fore 
head,  and  cheeks,  and  the  hair  so  glossy,  and  so  carefully  ar 
ranged,  though  so  perfectly  simple.  There  was  a  little  glitter, 
just  at  the  edges,  where  it  was  brushed  back ;  but  it  was  more 
like  a  fine  illuminated  line  than  like  gray  hairs  ;  and  she  had 
not  a  wrinkle  in  her  face,  though  I  knew  somehow,  without 
the  outward  betrayal,  that  she  had  doubtless  lived  years  enough 
for  gray  hairs  and  wrinkles  to  be  quite  possible.  Something  in 
the  way  the  lips,  quite  faultless  in  their  shape,  lay  together,  so 
easy,  satisfied,  undisturbed,  —  and  in  the  full,  calm  eyelids,  cor 
responding,  made  me  think  that  she  would  never  let  her  mouth 
sadden  heavily  into  lines,  or  her  eyes  cry  themselves  dim,  or 
into  shrunken  settings.  Perhaps  she  never  forgot  herself  long 
enough.  She  finished  herself  up  too  scrupulously  every  day,  to 
drop  into  any  decay  that  must  partly  come  from  not  caring. 

Death  had  come  close  to  her  ;  her  cap  said  that.  Death,  or 
the  separations  of  life,  almost  as  terrible,  must  have  come,  I 
imagined,  more  than  once ;  for  she  had  the  air  of  one  with  little 
present  responsibility,  and  few,  if  any,  close  ties.  The  very  way 
in  which  she  sat  there,  expressed  the  freedom,  the  independence, 
and  inoccupation  of  a  woman  whose  duties,  and  whose  deep  in 
terests,  had  ceased  to  press  upon  her. 

I  only  tell  you  just  what  I  fancied  then,  mind  ;  but  it  seemed 
to  me  as  if  she  had  comfortably  got  through  her  tribulations,  and 


4  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

laid  them  away  in  graves,  or  seen  her  burdens  happily  shunted 
off  on  side  tracks  of  circumstance ;  and  that  since  nothing  great 
could  very  well  happen  to  her  any  more,  she  could  set  herself 
placidly  to  receive  that  which  remained  to  her,  and  which  ap 
parently  was  plentiful  and  agreeable  enough,  in  nice  and  leis 
urely  detail.  I  thought  she  was  content  to  put  on  that  widow's 
cap,  of  unhandled  creation,  in  the  calm  certainty  that  she  need 
encounter  nothing  now,  in  daily  wear,  to  rumple  it.  It  is  a  sort 
of  thing  to  be  adopted  only  when  the  day's  work  of  life  is  done ; 
and  it  seems,  sometimes,  to  say  so. 

I  don't  half  like  the  look  of  it,  now  I  have  written  it  down  ; 
it  is  n't  the  way  I  mean  to  judge  people,  or  in  which  I  thought 
I  did.  I  don't  think  I  should  let  myself  be  governed  by  such 
judgment,  and  I  don't  believe  it  would  exactly  come  to  me  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  things  ;  but  I  seemed  just  passively  to 
read  it  out  that  morning  from  the  picture,  as  I  should  have  read 
a  railway  advertisement  in  which  I  had  really  no  practical  inter 
est,  only  that  it  was  placed  before  my  eyes  when  I  had  nothing 
else  to  do.  I  wonder  if  some  things  —  not  evil  judgments,  Rose, 
but  some  things,  of  after  use  —  may  n't  be  set  before  us  iu 
these  passive  times,  mentally  and  spiritually,  by  the  children  of 
light,  as  these  same  cunning  printed  suggestions  are  put  for  us  by 
the  children  of  this  world,  so  wise  in  their  generation  ?  There 
is  a  parallel,  as  there  is  in  every  mortal  way  and  device  ;  and 
wisdom  is  justified  of  all  her  children. 

To  confess  it  all  in  a  few  direct  words.  I  thought  that  woman 
sitting  in  the  one  comfortable  chair,  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
taking  up  all  the  pleasantness  of  it,  was 'a  very  selfish  woman, 
who  had  slipped  with  smooth  self-caring  through  all  the  disci 
pline  of  living,  so  that  it  had  left  no  mark  ;  who  had  never 
questioned  with  herself,  at  any  crisis,  whether  she  had  done  all 
her  duty,  or  possibly  failed  fatally  of  something  ;  who,  with  her 
durable  beauty,  had  played  the  successive  parts  of  life  serenely 
and  becomingly,  —  in  the  superficial  sense  ;  not  really  becoming 
anything ;  who  had  "  appeared  well "  in  all  relations ;  took  up 
each  as  quite  timely  and  suitable  in  its  order ;  found  it  as  natural 
and  graceful  to  be  a  widow,  as  to  have*  been  a  wife ;  and  was 
settled  down,  now,  to  an  undisturbed  solitary  enjoying  of  what 
to  a  more  real  person  might  be  desolation. 


ABOUT   THE  BEGINNING.  5 

I  looked  at  her,  in  that  inward  photograph,  until  I  caught 
myself  almost  hating  her  clear,  rosy  face,  her  straight,  impas 
sible,  handsome  nose,  her  young,  unworn  expression,  her  dainty 
dress,  her  white  cap.  And  then  the  train  stopped  at  a  way- 
station;  a  party  of  three  or  four  persons  got  in  and  wanted 
chairs,  which  were  not  all  to  be  had,  and  were  finally  settled  by 
the  bland,  gentlemanly-voiced,  gold-banded  conductor,  in  a  com 
partment  ;  a  boy  came  in  with  magnificent  Bartlett  pears,  and  I 
bought  some ;  we  whistled  and  steamed  away  again,  and  came 
down  into  a  lovely  piece  of  country,  where  the  maples  were 
shining  in  the  morning  sun  with  their  early  gold  and  vermilion, 
and  I  forgot  all  about  the  calm  and  comely  widow,  and  never 
thought  any  more  of  her  until,  nine  months  and  more  later,  — 
in  June,  —  I  met  her  again  at  Outledge,  and  had  my  second  in 
troduction. 

And  now  we  sail,  together,  the  week  after  next,  in  the  Nova 
Zembla,  for  Liverpool. 

But  that  does  not  come  next.  And  what  does  come  next 
must  go  into  another  letter.  I  shall  write  more  than  one,  I  dare 
say,  before  I  go.  My  packing  is  nearly  done,  — house-packing, 
I  mean  ;  making  room  for  "  Eliphalet's  folks  "  to  come  to  the 
old  farm  for  the  summer.  I  always  say  that  because  mother 
did.  The  dear  old  mother-ways,  that  some  people  hurry  to  get 
rid  of,  never  will  be  helped  die  out  by  me.  There  was  heart  in 
them ;  and  how  shall  our  "  hearts  live  forever,"  if  we  cut  away 
all  the  little  live  cords  of  habit  and  memory  that  they  pulsate 
by? 


6  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CORNER   BISCUITS. 


....  IT  was  the  spring  after  Emery  Ann's  mother  died, 
and  little  Rhodory  was  seventeen,  and  had  got  well  on  with  her 
schooling,  and,  in  fact,  had  studied  too  hard,  and  Matilda,  Pen- 
uel's  wife,  wrote  to  ask  if  she  could  n't  have  her  for  a  while ; 
for  her  health  was  poor,  and  the  children  "  needed  a  sight  of 
looking  after,  and  he  was  n't  to  say  nigh  as  smart  as  he  had 
been  ; "  so  we  went  down  a  journey  among  the  Maine  hills  and 
lakes,  and  left  Rhodory  at  Shenean,  and  came  back, —  Emery 
Ann  and  I,  —  by  Gorham,  and  Mount  Washington,  and  Out- 
ledge. 

It  was  early  in  the  season  when  we  got  to  the  Giant's  Cairn 
House,  and  the  crowd  had  not  come  up.  But  there  were 
twenty  or  thirty  people  in  the  hotel,  and  the  early  families,  for 
the  long  season,  had  begun  to  settle  in  the  little  boarding- 
houses. 

I  did  not  know  a  soul  among  the  hotel  visitors,  and  of  course 
Emery  Ann  did  n't ;  but  they  seemed  nearly  all  to  know  each 
other  ;  so  it  was  two  or  three  days  before  we  really  made  any 
talk  with  any  of  them.  But  the  very  first  person  I  saw  the 
first  morning  we  got  there,  was  the  handsome  widow  lady  whom 
I  had  not  thought  of  for  nearly  ten  months,  and  who  flashed 
right  back  into  her  place  and  history  in  my  imagination,  when  I 
found  her  in  exactly  the  same  spot  again,  before  the  fire,  —  for 
the  early  June  mornings  were  chilly,  —  in  the  same  little  east 
parlor,  on  to  which  all  the  fine  new  suite  of  drawing-rooms  was 
tacked,  in  the  great  enlarging  of  Giant's  Cairn  House,  after  the 
railroad  came. 


CORNER   BISCUITS.  7 

She  knew  the  cosiest  place,  just  like  a  cat;  and  she  sat  there, 
with  just  the  same  rosy  morning  face,  and  unfingered  cap,  and 
fine  white  stockings,  and  trim  slippers,  with  her  feet  on  the 
fender.  Mrs.  Henson's  great  gray  cat  was  there  too ;  which 
made  me  think  of  the  likeness ;  and  Mrs.  Regis  had  made  room 
for  her  at  the  edge  of  her  skirts,  and  looked  down  at  her  now 
and  then  with  an  amiable  and  sympathetic  expression.  I  was 
going  to  say  a-feelin  one,  but  I  don't  make  puns  except  by  ac 
cident. 

"  The  lady  does  not '  belong  to  the  kick-the-cat-and-poke-the- 
fire  society,'  as  I  heard  a  man  say  once  that  some  crusty  person 
did,"  I  said  to  myself,  touching  up  the  little  character  sketch 
begun  the  year  before.  "The  cat  must  be  comfortable,  too.  It 
is  a  part  of  her  comfort." 

She  made  room  for  me  also ;  just  room ;  she  evidently 
could  n't  have  peace  in  her  mind  by  actually  crowding  anybody 
out ;  but  I  did  not  care  to  sit  on  the  edge  of  her  skirts  like  old 
Benjamin,  so  I  only  bowed,  and  moved  away  to  a  window  where 
I  found  a  sunny  seat,  and  waited  there  for  Emery  Ann. 

We  had  just  done  breakfast.  We  were  always  pretty  punct 
ual  ;  so,  as  there  were  plenty  of  late  comers,  the  little  morning 
parlor  had  not  begun  to  fill,  as  it  would  presently,  with  people 
waiting  about  in  that  brief,  delicious  procrastination  which  pre 
cedes  the  "  beginning  upon  the  day." 

When  it  did,  and  a  little  circle  gathered  around  the  fire  and 
Mrs.  Regis,  she  found  places  very  politely  till  there  was  no 
more  room  to  make,  but  did  not  give  up,  out  and  out,  her  place 
to  anybody.  A  pleasant  little  talk  began,  which  she  joined  in, 
and  indeed  led,  for  a  few  minutes  ;  then  she  said,  rather  sud 
denly,  that  she  could  n't  be  comfortable  any  longer,  for  she  had 
a  trunk  to  unpack,  and  clothes  to  give  out  for  the  wash,  and  the 
woman  would  be  waiting. 

"  Oh,  let  her  wait  a  little  while!"  cried  a  young  girl,  who 
leaned  on  her  chair  behind,  and  who  seemed  to  have  —  as  girls 
will  have  —  an  extreme  admiration  for  the  fascinating  elder 
woman. 

"  There  would  n't  be  any  satisfaction  in  that,  Katie ! "  and 
Mrs.  Regis  rose,  left  the  fire,  and  the  rocking-cliair,  and  her 


8  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

knot  of  satellites,  and  went  up,  with  that  same  smooth  content 
upon  her  face,  into  the  cold. 

Later  in  the  day,  the  ladies  were  gathered  in  the  end  piazza, 
while  some  of  the  younger  ones  played  croquet  upon  the  green. 
Emery  Ann  and  I  had  work  and  a  book,  and  had  settled  our 
selves,  since  dinner,  on  a  small  settee  nearer  the  front  corner  of 
the  house.  But  we  were  still  quite  near  enough  to  the  others 
to  see  and  hear  all  that  went  on,  in  both  little  plays  that  were 
proceeding.  For  it  does  n't  need  a  plot  and  set  scenes,  or  even 
an  interest  that  is  ever  to  be  completed,  to  make  a  play.  Every 
chance  group  and  conversation  is  a  scene,  and  everybody  —  but 
Shakspeare  said  that,  as  he  said  most  things,  long  ago. 

There  were  settees,  and  regular  piazza  chairs,  —  stiff  enough, 
of  plain  deal,  with  no  cushions,  —  and  there  were  one  or  two 
comfortable  low  Shaker  chairs,  and  a  couple  of  stuffed  rockers. 
Mrs.  Regis,  of  course,  was  established  in  one  of  the  last,  and  all 
the  rest  were  occupied.  A  lady  much  older  than  herself,  with 
white  hair  and  slow  step,  came  out  to  join  the  party.  Mrs. 
Regis  rose  instantly.  But,  then,  so  did  Katie,  and  Katie's 
mother,  and  two  or  three  other  persons.  The  white-haired  lady 
accepted  a  young  girl's  seat  with  very  gentle  thanks,  and  Mrs. 
Regis  settled  again  into  her  own. 

"  I  wonder  why  they  make  uncomfortable  chairs,  at  all ! " 
said  Mrs.  Regis.  "  If  I  had  the  ordering,  there  should  n't  be 
anything  manufactured  that  was  n't  low  and  broad  and  easy. 
Such  things  as  those,  standing  round,  are  only  just  so  many 
compulsions  to  the  continual  giving  up  of  the  few  one  could 
really  rest  in.  Nobody  can  take  entire  comfort." 

"  Except  those  that  'd  rather  not  rob  themselves  of  the  givin' 
up,"  said  Emery  Ann ;  to  me,  I  suppose,  for  she  certainly  had 
no  business  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Regis.  But  she  looked  at  nobody 
at  all ;  her  eyes  were  straight  before  her,  over  the  tops  of  her 
knitting-needles,  and  her  voice  was  clear  and  loud. 

There  was  that  instant's  silence  which  occurs  in  a  well-bred 
company  when  somebody  jumps  over  a  social  fence  into  the 
midst  of  things,  —  the  same  pause  of  surprise  that  might  come 
in  talk  if  a  cat  bounced  in  at  a  window ;  then  everybody  recog 
nizes  that  it  is  only  a  cat,  and  the  talk  goes  on. 


CORNER  BISCUITS.  9 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Regis,  as  if  without  interruption,  "  I  would 
never  have  anything  but  easy-chairs." 

"And  corner  biscuits,"  said  a  tall,  beautiful  young  woman, 
whom  I  had  noticed  from  the  beginning,  but  whose  name  — 
except  "  Margaret "  —  and  whose  exact  connection  in  the  party 
I  had  not  yet  found  out.  She  had  been  among  them  all  day, 
but  without  directly  attaching  herself  to  any  one.  "  She  had 
some  little  pans  made,"  she  went  on,  "  to  hold  four  breakfast 
biscuits,  because  she  thinks  a  biscuit  is  good  for  nothing  with 
out  a  corner." 

Mrs.  Regis  smiled,  as  quite  willing  that  her  providing  for 
everybody  to  have  the  best  should  be  made  known. 

The  girl's  speech,  and  the  personal  pronoun  in  it,  puzzled 
me.  Did  she  belong  to  Mrs.  Regis  ?  Then  why  did  n't  she 
say  "Aunt,"  or,  if  it  were  possible  to  be  so,  "Mamma"?  If 
she  were  a  friend,  and  had  been  entertained  at  Mrs.  Regis's  table, 
why  would  it  not  have  been  more  elegant  —  and  so,  for  that 
girl,  more  natural  —  to  speak  of  her  by  her  name  ? 

But  I  laid  that  aside  in  my  mind,  and  went  on  thinking. 
Somehow  this  handsome,  comfortable  woman  would  keep  ex 
plaining  herself  to  me. 

I  said  to  myself,  "  There  are  people  who  may  be  prompt 
and  energetic  just  because  they  are  naturally  lazy,  and  want 
to  make  room  for  laziness,  not  leaving  any  little  pricks  of  an 
noyance  from  things  undone ;  and  persons  who  may  be,  in  all 
foresights  and  decisions,  generous,  —  perhaps  at  great,  single 
points,  magnanimous,  —  because  they  are  at  once  proud  and 
self-respecting,  and  at  the  same  time  conscious  that  their  little 
practical  tendencies  are  selfish.  It  is  n't  a  hopeless  thing  with 
such  a  person,  after  all.  The  working,  in  a  long  time,  might 
be  to  redeem  one's  self  without  knowing  it." 

Two  days  after,  I  had  been  writing  a  letter  to  Gertrude, 
Eliphalet's  wife.  She  thought  some  of  coming  up  here  with 
Edith,  and  I  had  been  finding  out  about  rooms  for  her. 

I  had  written  my  letter  in  the  east  parlor ;  and  after  I  had 
shut  up  my  little  lap  blotting-book,  and  stuck  my  pen  in  the 
inkstand,  and  snapped  the  inkstand  cover,  I  sat  looking  dream 
ily  out  of  the  window,  over  toward  Giant's  Cairn,  sharp  and 
beautiful  against  the  morning  blue. 


10  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Mrs.  Regis  sat  a  little  way  off  at  the  next  window.  She  had 
her  hat  on,  waiting  for  some  girls  who  were  going  with  her  to 
the  Cathedral  Woods. 

I  bethought  myself  suddenly  of  a  pattern  I  had  said  I  would 
look  for  in  my  trunk  for  Emery  Ann,  and  that  she  might  be 
wanting  it;  and  I  gathered  up  pen,  cup,  stand,  book,  and  moved 
quickly  across  the  room  to  the  door. 

"  Your  letter,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Regis's  voice  behind  me ; 
and  I  turned,  and  saw  my  letter,  which  had  lain  in  my  lap,  in 
her  hand.  As  I  looked  up  at  her  face,  and  held  out  my  hand, 
thanking  her,  I  caught  the  surprise  in  her  expression,  as  she 
saw,  naturally  and  unavoidably  enough,  the  address. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  '  Mrs.  Eliphalet  Strong  ?  '  Is  she  a 
friend  of  yours  ?  "  And  then  "  I  beg  your  pardon  !  "  for  the 
second  involuntary  liberty  of  the  question,  was  repeated.  Mrs. 
Regis  had  certainly  the  instincts  of  a  lady. 

"  She  is  my  sister-in-law,"  I  answered. 

"  She  is  also  my  cousin  ;  that  is,  my  step-cousin.  I  believe 
I  'm  a  step-everything  to  somebody  or  another.  My  step-mother 
was  her  aunt.  May  I  ask  if  you  expect  her  here  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  I  replied.     "  I  am  writing  to  her  about  rooms." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her.  I  have  not  met  Gertrude  for 
many  years.  I  was  at  Fort  Snelling  with  Colonel  Regis  a  long 
time  before  the  war ;  and  then  when  he  went  South  with  the 
army,  I  came  to  Louisville.  I  have  never  been  quite  East 
until  last  summer." 

We  exchanged  a  few  more  words,  and  then  Katie  and  Marga 
ret  and  the  others  came  in.  But  my  acquaintance  —  as  people 
call  acquaintance  —  with  Mrs.  Regis  was  begun.  The  real 
little  introductions  though,  that  I  had  got  beforehand,  and  the 
things  that  gradually,  in  like  manner,  added  themselves  after 
ward  were  quite  ahead,  for  a  long  time,  of  our  actual  intercourse. 
Perhaps  they  are  likely  to  be  so  still. 

Now  that  I  was  "  Miss  Strong,"  Mrs.  Regis  was  very  cordial 
indeed.  She  even  extended  a  suavity  that  ignored  all  peculiarity 
to  "  Miss  Tudor."  That  is  not  a  common  name,  you  know,  and 
she  was  evidently  rather  impressed  by  it.  But  have  you  any 
idea  or  remembrance  of  who  "  Miss  Tudor  "  is  ? 


CORNER   BISCUITS.  11 

Why,  it  is  Emery  Ann  ! 

Her  mother  was-  married  twice  ;  little  Rhodory  is  Rhodory 
Breckenshaw ;  but  Emery  Ann  is  Tudor,  —  when  you  go  off  and 
back  to  that,  which  we  hardly  ever  think  of  at  home  hi  any  way. 

It  is  very  well,  I  think,  that  I  began  with  my  voluminous 
"letters  of  introduction"  three  weeks  beforehand.  I  had  no 
notion  I  should  be  so  gossippy.  But  you  asked  me  for  my 
"  sights  and  insights,"  and  I  find  they  began  away  back,  two 
summers  ago.  You  are  to  start  with  me,  Rose,  and  go  all  the 
way ;  and  you  know  what  my  "  outings  "  are ;  "  into  the  mid 
dles,"  and  "  into  other  people's  business  ; "  an  old  maid's  mission, 
as  I  always  claim  ;  only  some  old  maids  are  so  apt  to  half  com 
prehend  and  half  do  their  errands,  and  pick  at  the  edges  of 
everything  instead  of  getting  into  the  heart  of  any  —  the 
nearest.  There  is  no  middle,  but  mere  meddle,  in  that ;  and 
they  degrade,  when  they  might  magnify,  their  office. 


12  SIGHTS  AXD   INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

STEP-EVERYTHIXG. 


....  IF  it  were  not  for  these  long  pen  and  ink  talks  with 
you,  Rose,  I  really  should  not  quite  know  what  to  do  with  the 
last  days.  Everything  is  getting  so  terribly  ready ;  and  the 
house  is  so  cleared  up,  and  packed  up,  and  Emery  Ann  and  I 
have  so  much  ado  not  to  do  anything  ;  not  to  live  —  the  sort  of 
living  that  gets  things  about  again,  and  not  to  wear,  toward  the 
end,  what  by  any  means  will  want  washing  and  ironing  again 
—  for  us.  We  are  to  roll  up  the  very  last  in  a  bundle  on  the 
Monday  evening,  and  little  Tim  Callahan  is  to  come  and  carry 
it  away,  —  as  he  has  all  the  other  odds  and  ends,  —  for  his 
mother. 

But  to  return  to  Outledge,  and  finish  up  —  if  I  can  —  my 
Preface. 

Gertrude  and  Edith  came  up  the  next  week.  Gertrude  told 
me  a  good  deal  about  her  "  step-cousin."  They  had  exchanged 
long  visits  when  they  were  girls,  though  Gertrude  was  con 
siderably  the  younger,  and  they  had  gone  to  parties,  for  a 
whole  winter  together,  in  Washington.  Then  Virginia  married 
Colonel  Regis,  and  went  to  Florida,  and  afterward  up  to  Fort 
Snelling,  and  they  had  lost  sight  and  thread  of  each  other. 

Virginia  was  Colonel  Regis's  second  wife  ;  his  "  step-wife,"  as 
bright,  saucy,  willful  little  Margaret  had  actually  called  her, 
once. 

Mrs.  Regis  had  told  me,  herself,  that  she  had  had  a  step 
mother.  Had  there  been  no  real,  close,  first-hand  relationship 
for  her  anywhere  ?  Was  she,  as  she  said,  "  step-everything  ?  " 


STEP-EVERYTHING.  13 

I  thought  of  my  own  dear  little  mother ;  I  turned  to  her  in 
that  little  sanctuary  of  my  thought  where  a  light  of  presence  is 
always  hovering,  and  I  could  hardly,  any  more,  judge  or  blame 
the  woman  who  had  had  nothing  like  that. 

Her  father  had  died,  Gertrude  told  me,  when  she  was  only 
five  years  old,  two  years  after  his  second  marriage  ;  and  when 
she  was  ten  her  step-mother  had  married  again.  Five  years 
later,  she  went  away  with  her  husband  to  China,  leaving  Vir 
ginia  at  Philadelphia  with  her  sister,  also,  of  course,  Gertrude's 
aunt.  The  husband  of  this  lady  was  a  member  of  Congress, 
and  for  a  time  in  the  Cabinet.  Thus  the  girls'  companionship 
at  Washington. 

But  what  fearful  fourth-dilutions  of  heart's  love  and  belonging ! 

Colonel  Regis  had  been  killed  at  Fort  Donelson ;  they  had 
never  had  a  child. 

No*;  she  never  had  stood  at  any  dear  death-bed.  That 
supreme,  holy  experience  had  not  been  given  her.  Perhaps 
she  had  never  been  ready  for  it,  with  the  love  that  would  make 
it  supreme  and  holy.  It  might  be  that  only  her  own  would 
touch  her  to  the  real  deep.  There  seemed  little  else  —  of  that 
kind  —  to  happen  to  her  now.  I  do  not  think  I  wonder  much 
that  she  wore  her  delicate  caps,  with  their  white  rolls,  only  as  a 
careful  framing  to  her  handsome  face,  and  that  she  moved  with 
a  mere  elegant  satisfaction  in  the  role  that  was  assigned  to  her 
at  the  last.  Step-e  very  thing  !  A  walking  lady  for  the  person 
ation  of  tremendous  actualities. 

Margaret  was  the  younger,  by  many  years,  of  Colonel  Regis's 
two  daughters.  Helen  had  been  at  boarding-school  when  her 
father  died,  and  had  been  married,  during  the  last  winter  but 
one,  at  twenty-five  ;  just  before  Margaret,  in  her  turn,  finally 
came  home  and  out  into  society. 

There  was  a  curious,  and  I  think  very  blameworthy  arrange 
ment  about  property,  as  concerned  these  two  young  women. 
Mrs.  Regis  received  absolutely,  some  say,  and  some  say  upon 
condition  of  making  no  second  marriage,  the  bulk  of  her  hus 
band's  wealth,  the  income  of  which  was  to  be  taxed  with  an 
annual  personal  allowance  for  each  of  the  two  daughters,  to  be 
replaced  at  their  several  marriages,  with  a  portion  outright. 


14  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

A  certain  additional  part  of  the  large  remainder  was  to  re 
vert,  at  the  widow's  death,  to  either  or  to  both  of  the  children, 
according  to  her  direction  and  in  such  shares  as  she  should 
please ;  but  that  amount  could  not  be  devised  entirely  away 
from  both.  The  still  considerable  residue  —  unless  it  were  for 
the  disputed  condition  mentioned  —  was  wholly  in  her  own 
power  and  disposing.  If  either  sister  married  without  her  step 
mother's  consent  before  the  age  of  twenty-five,  she  should  for 
feit  her  portion  and  all  future  inheritance.  Gertrude  had  heard 
of  all  this  at  the  time ;  it  had  made  a  good  deal  of  talk  nat 
urally. 

It  came  hard  upon  this  proud,  handsome  Margaret.  She  had 
all  her  youth  and  its  contingencies  to  live  through,  under  the 
very  watch  and  ward  that  might  be  so  tyrannous,  so  selfish. 
Helen  had  escaped  easily.  There  could  have  been  no  reasonable 
exception  taken  to  her  alliance  with  Maurice  Vanderhuysen,  a 
man  at  thirty-three  in  high  public  station  and  esteem,  of  un 
blemished  record,  of  old  New  York  family,  and  substantial 
wealth.  Even  if  she  had  not  been  in  her  twenty-fifth  summer 
when  she  met  him,  and  chosen,  naturally  enough,  the  coming 
birthday  in  December,  for  her  marriage. 

Margaret  was  just  eighteen  at  this  time,  —  a  year  ago,  you 
know,  —  when  I  met  her  and  her  step-mother  at  Outledge. 

It  was  really  very  odd,  —  if  anything  ever  is,  which  you  know 
I  don't  believe,  —  that  we  all  came  together  there  and  then,  and 
that  all  this,  and  the  dear  Lord  knoweth  how  much  more,  began 
to  grow  out  of  it. 

Gertrude  thinks  very  well  —  very  much,  indeed  —  of  Mrs. 
Regis.  One  never  imagines  easily  that  a  girl  one  has  chatted 
and  dressed  and  slept  and  gone  to  merry-makings  with,  in  the 
old  times,  can  have  turned  out  hard,  or  grasping,  or  managing, 
in  the  after-moulding  of  the  world.  Gertrude  says  that  Virginia 
had  been  quite  a  devoted  wife  to  Colonel  Regis,  who  would  have 
her  with  him  everywhere,  and  who  was  very  exacting  in  daily 
life. 

Undoubtedly,  she  thinks,  she  will  do  all  that  is  right  by 
Margaret,  as  she  has  done  by  Helen.  Colonel  Regis  would  not 
have  left  it  so,  if  he  had  not  known  that  he  could  fully  trust  her 


STEP-EVERYTHING.  15 

with  his  children.  She  is  the  sort  of  woman  who  will  feel  she 
owes  it  to  her  own  self-respect  to  fulfill  her  duties. 

Yes,  I  could  see  that  even  then.  She  must  have  a  comforta 
ble  opinion  of  herself.  She  would  pay  certain  taxes,  unhesitat 
ingly,  out  of  pleasures  and  preferences,  —  perhaps  even  in 
terests,  —  to  gather  all  back  again  in  that  form.  That  sort  of 
8elf-sacrifice  carried  a  neutralizing  quality  against  real  wear  and 
tear ;  it  had  kept  her  calm  and  plump.  I  do  not  think,  any  the 
more,  however,  that  she  is  a  woman  —  yet  —  to  give  herself  all 
away.  And  the  will,  I  think,  was  even  wickedly  unwise.  I  had  no 
patience  with  it,  as  I  heard  about  it.  I  would  not  put  between 
real,  dear,  own  motherhood  and  daughterhood  such  an  ungra 
cious,  mistrustful  power  and  dependence  as  that.  Besides,  it 
seems  to  me  that  such  a  will,  in  its  presumption  of  the  need  for 
so  much  watch  and  ward  and  authority,  reflects  upon  a  man's 
own  estimate  of  himself,  and  of  his  first  dead  wife ;  since 
character  and  trustworthiness  must  surely  descend  by  a  law 
far  more  innate  and  unerring  than  any  statute  which  can  be 
made  for  the  control  of  money -inheritance. 

We  liked  Margaret  Regis,  ever  so  m#ch,  Emery  Ann  and  I. 

You  know  how,  especially  since  we  have  been  quite  left  to 
each  other,  the  good  house  friend  and  I  have  grown  more  and 
more  to  be  thorough  companions ;  and  that  everywhere,  though 
she  is  my  great  help  and  reliance,  I  refuse  to  let  that  make  her, 
in  any  painful,  obvious  way,  my  inferior,  any  more  than  she  is 
made  at  home  ;  any  more  than  my  little  mother  made  her.  It 
was  the  old-fashioned  New  England  relation  between  us,  always. 
It  was,  of  course,  convenient,  and  in  the  right  order,  when  we 
were  all  together,  a  family,  for  Emery  Ann  to  serve  and  to  come 
last ;  but  with  mother  and  me,  and  then  with  me  alone,  it  set 
tled  down,  more  and  more,  to  make  no  difference.  I  surely  could 
not  take  her  traveling  with  me,  now,  as  my. "maid,"  and  send 
her  into  hotel  kitchens !  No ;  though  she  spoke  tenfold  vernac 
ular,  and  wore  five  brown  satin  braids  on  the  top  of  her  head, 
instead  of  one,  which  I  can't  yet  gently  persuade  her  out  of  1 

So  she  is  my  friend  and  companion,  and  people  find  :t  out  and 
admit  it.  I  find  it  is  only  the  unusual  things  of  this  sort  that 
you  propose  to  do,  or  half-  do,  that  you  are  eyebrowed  out  of; 


16  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

0 

nobody  stares  or  expostulates  when  you  have  once  and  for  all 
quietly  established  your  little  exception. 

Margaret  Regis  used  to  come  into  our  rooms  a  good  deal. 
Emery  Ann  sat  mostly  in  her  own  little  bedchamber  that  led 
out  from  mine,  with  the  door  open  between  us.  And  that  just 
expresses  how  we  live  together. 

Margaret  was  too  proud  and  dignified  to  tell  any  one,  least  of 
all  a  recent  acquaintance,  the  things  that  vexed  or  made  her 
cold  and  jealous  and  uncomfortable  in  her  relations  with  her 
step-mother  ;  but  she  was  the  most  undisguised  reserved  person 
I  ever  saw.  She  never  said,  It  is  so  and  so,  between  mamma 
and  me  ;  but  she  uttered  her  energetic,  uncompromising  opinions 
of  life,  of  books,  of  histories,  of  whatever  you  spoke  about,  show 
ing  the  color  of  her  own  experience,  and  betraying  most  simply 
how  she  had  come  at  her  feeling  through  circumstance,  until 
you  felt  almost  as  if  you  had  listened  in  a  corner  or  peeped  into 
a  folded  writing,  so  thoroughly  you  understood  that  which  was 
unsaid. 

She  was  an  odd  little  thing,  and  she  made  you  think  of  her 
so,  for  all  her  tall  superbness  of  beauty,  and  her  proud  individ 
uality.  She  had  as  many  freaks  as  a  kitten,  but  they  were 
springs  and  bounds  of  a  strength  and  quickness  that  were  akin 
to  the  leonine  —  the  grand. 

She  would  almost  always  make  an  errand  from  my  room  into 
Emery  Ann's,  and  linger  there,  getting  into  talk  with  the  quaint, 
honest  soul,  whose  quaintness  and  honesty  were  he'r  wonderful 
charm  to  the  high-bred  girl  whose  own  originalities  and  sinceri 
ties  often  tempted  her  to  cast  aside  the  little  conventionalities  of 
her  class  polish  and  training,  in  outright  and  graphic  speech. 

"  I  always  did  hate  to  be  moralized  to,"  she  said  one  day. 
"  If  I  see  a  thing,  I  don't  want  it  poked  at  me  as  if  I  could  n't ; 
and  if  I  don't  what 's  the  use  until  I  do  ?  Do  you  know,  Miss 
Tudor,  what  I  said  the  first  time  they  took  me  to  church,  when 
I  was  four  years  old  ?  It  was  up  in  the  country,  in  Connecticut, 
and  some  old  lady  aunts  I  was  staying  with  dressed  me  up  and 
let  me  go  to  meeting.  When  I  got  home,  they  asked  me  ques 
tions  to  find  out  what  my  small  impressions  had  been.  I 
would  n't  admit  a  sensation,  because  I  saw  that  it  was  expected. 


STEP-EVERYTHING.  17 

'  Oh,  I  saw  the  people,'  I  answered,  carelessly.  '  Well,  where 
were  they  ? '  '  Oh,  in  little  pens  ! '  'In  pens  ?  '  '  Yes,  with 
little  doors  ;  shut  in  like  pigs.'  '  What  a  child  !  But  what  else 
did  you  see  ?  '  '  Oh,  I  saw  a  man,  looking  over  the  fence,  mak 
ing  up  faces  at '  em,  and  hollering  ! '  That  was  what  I  used  to 
amuse  myself  with  doing,  in  the  farmyard ;  and  it  was  what  the 
preaching  really  seemed  like  to  me.  It  seems  like  that,  some 
times,  to  this  day,  especially  amateur  preaching." 

Who  could  not  guess  that  Mrs.  Regis  had  been  giving  long, 
excellent,  world-wise,  and  heavenly-moral  advice,  and,  perhaps, 
expostulation,  that  morning  ? 

She  was  fond  of  giving  us  sensations  by  these  queer  little 
anecdotes  of  her  childhood,  though  she  scarcely  ever  spoke  of 
herself  as  she  was  now. 

"Do  let  me  be  obliging!"  she  cried  one  day,  when  she 
had  brought  a  footstool  to  Emery  Ann,  who  had  a  cutting- 
board  with  cloth  and  patterns  on  her  lap,  and  was  keeping 
it  level  by  balancing  on  her  tiptoes.  "  I  like  it  better  now,  than 
when  it  used  to  be  required  of  me.  People  expect  such  per 
fect  crucifixion  of  self  from  little  children,  and  the  total-de 
pravity  people  require  the  most.  I  remember  when  some  one 
gave  me  a  reason,  once,  for  being  perfectly  willing  always  to 
leave  my  dolls  and  run  up-stairs  for  her  eye-glasses,  which 
were  always  somewhere  else.  '  Little  girls  should  be  obliging. 
They  are  obliged  for  everything,  you  know.  They  couldn't 
get,  or  make,  the  least  thing  they  need  for  themselves.  The 
least  they  can  do  is  to  run  little  errands  cheerfully.'  It  was 
perfectly  true ;  that  was  the  very  reason  that  it  stayed  in  my 
mind  all  day,  and  that  I  rushed  up  to  Cousin  Arthur  when  he 
came  in  at  night,  and  asked  him  with  absolute  fierceness  '  what 
I  could  do  to  earn  five  dollars.'  '  What  do  you  want  with  five 
dollars  ? '  he  asked,  with  exasperating  grown-upness.  '  I  want 
to  earn  five  dollars,  tomekow,'  I  said,  in  furious  earnest, '  and 
live  a  disobliging  life.  '  Once  in  a  while,  I  think  I  should  like 
to  do  it  now." 

Her  voice  dropped  into  a  kind  of  pathetic  quietness. 

"  That  girl  is  harrered  out  of  her  life,"  said  Emery  Ann  to 
me  when  she  had  gone. 
2 


18  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

"No,  I  don't  think  that,"  said  I.  "Because,  in  the  first  place, 
nobody  ever  is  harrowed  out  of  their  life  ;  it 's  for  the  life's  sake 
the  ground  is  harrowed  ;  and  then  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Regis  will 
ever  really  treat  her  badly." 

"  It 's  wuss  sometimes  when  people  don't,"  said  Emery  Ann, 
sententiously. 

One  morning,  when  Mrs.  Regis,  Gertrude,  Margaret,  Edith, 
and  I  were  all  together,  a  talk  came  up  about  going  to  Europe. 
And  that  was  the  beginning  —  though  we  did  not  think  much  of 
it  then  —  of  all  the  talks  that  have  come  since,  and  of  the  way 
that  it  has  happened  round. 

A  family  —  parents  and  young  people  —  had  arrived  at  the 
hotel,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  year's  travel.  The  girls,  of 
course,  were  all  alight  about  it ;  except  that  I  could  see  that 
Margaret  caught  herself  up  in  the  midst  of  some  enthusiasm, 
every  now  and  then,  and  calmed  suddenly  down. 

We  went  over  ways  and  means,  and  comparative  expenses,  as 
people  do ;  at  least  Gertrude  and  Mrs.  Regis  talked  it  all  over, 
and  Edith  chimed  in  eagerly  whenever  some  special  delightful 
thing  was  mentioned  that  one  could  do  so  easily  on  the  other 
side  the  water. 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible  for  me  to  go  again  now,  for  Edith's 
sake,"  said  Gertrude.  "  She  was  such  a  baby  when  we  went 
before." 

"Oh,  mamma,  I  was  seven,  you  know,  — just  old  enough  for 
me  to  remember  why  I  long  to  go  again.  I  think  it  is  nice  to 
have  been  when  you  were  a  child  ;  you  have  that  dear  feeling  of 
old  places,  besides  the  beauty  of  what  you  did  n't  see.  I  want 
so  to  get  back  into  those  lovely  old  Boboli  gardens  ! " 

Mrs.  Regis  turned  to  her  step-daughter  with  an  air  as  if  some 
mental  suggestion  had  put  weight  and  purpose  into  the  acci 
dental  talk. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  Europe,  Margaret  ?  " 

The  girl's  face  kindled.  She  could  not  help  that,  at  the  first 
idea.  But  she  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Regis,  with  that  grave,  proud 
expression  coming  into  her  eyes,  and  said, — 

"  Of  course,  mamma,  I  should  like  it.  But  it  would  not  be 
of  any  use." 


STEP-EVERYTHING.  19 

The  last  words  were  very  deliberate  and  firm.  It  was  quite 
uncomfortable ;  it  was  so  evident  that  they  meant  something 
beyond  the  saying. 

Mrs.  Regis  looked  slightly  impatient.  She  turned  away 
again,  to  Gertrude. 

"  Did  you  tell  me  it  was  in  Dresden,  or  in  Munich  you 
bought  that  beautiful  copy  of  Holbein's  Infant  Christ  and  the 
Sick  Child  ?  "  she  said.  And  then  led  the  talk  round  to  the  last 
collection  exhibited  at  the  Athenaeum,  and  from  that  to  some 
body  she  met  there;  and  then  to  an  approaching  wedding  in 
town,  and  so  back,  by  way  of  people  who  were  going  home  to 
it,  to  Outledge  and  the  present  moment. 

Mrs.  Regis  not  only  knew  how  to  change  a  conversation,  but 
to  keep  it  changed.  Not  even  Edith's  second  girlish  return  to 
the  charge,  could  bring  up  the  subject  of  foreign  affairs  again. 

Of  course  Gertrude  knew  better  than  not  politely  to  follow 
the  other  lady's  evident  lead.  And  there  was  nothing  more  said 
of  Europe,  and  very  little  happened  to  introduce  me  any  more 
to  the  Regises,  for  the  four  days  longer  that  I  stayed  at  Out- 
ledge.  But  I  thought  there  would  be  a  continuing  sometime. 
Story  writers  never  invented  the  trick  —  in  the  sense  of  its  not 
having  been  in  the  world  before  —  of  hints  and  scraps  in  first 
chapters  that  are  to  "  evolve "  into  middles  and  ends.  It  is  a 
higher  ahd  a  deeper  thing  than  that ;  and  story  writers,  who 
put  any  sane,  harmonious  sense  into  their  work,  know  very  well 
that  they  cannot  originate  anything.  It  is  just  sights  and  in 
sights  ;  combining,  and  "  putting  a  name  to  it." 

There  may  not  be  any  more  story,  as  far  as  these  people  are 
concerned,  in  all  my  over-the-water  outing  with  them.  We 
are  not  bound  to  remain  together ;  I  would  not  be  bound  like 
that  with  anybody,  in  such  mere  experimental  arrangement. 
We  go  to  England  in  the  same  ship ;  we  are  all  to  spend 
the  summer  in  Switzerland;  our  plans  may  fall  in,  and  out, 
and  in  again,  "  sitting  by  the  spring ; "  they  say  you  can't 
lose  anybody  in  Europe.  Or  they  may  fall  out  altogether. 
Any  way,  you  have  got  now,  all  that  I  have.  Anybody  might 
have  it,  who  was  of  the  party ;  it  is  nothing  contraband.  And 
you,  Rose,  are  of  the  party. 


20  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PACKING   AND  POCKETS. 


....  IT  seems  just  as  queer  to  me  now,  that  I  should  really 
be  going  abroad,  as  it  did  years  ago,  when  Eliphalet  gave  me 
that  sudden  invitation,  and  I  anticipated  it  for  a  fortnight  and 
then  broke  my  leg  and  stayed  at  home. 

What  a  blessed  break  and  pain  that  was!  If  I  had  gone 
then,  I  should  never  have  seen  my  dear  little  mother  again,  on 
this  side  of  the  great  deep  ! 

Now,  everybody  was  surprised  that  I,  so  suddenly,  took  it 
into  my  own  head  to  go.  Nobody  knew  that  Doctor  Deane 
had  told  Emery  Ann  that  she  ought  to  leave  off  housework  for 
a  while,  and  have  a  change. 

"  If  she  were  a  rich  woman,"  he  said  to  me,  "  and  educated 
to  enjoy  it,  I  should  order  her  off  to  Europe.'  It  is  hard  to 
prescribe  idleness  and  change  of  scene  to  these  quiet,  limited 
people  whose  little  daily  industries  are  all  their  life." 

Much  he  knew  about  it !  Though  he  is  a  good  doctor,  and  a 
good  soul,  too.  There  is  life  of  all  sorts,  everywhere  ;  and  any 
body  can  go  about  the  world  and  pick  up  what  belongs  to  them. 
Perhaps  the  quiet,  limited  people  are  most  sure  what  does  be 
long  when  they  come  to  it. 

Emery  Ann  likes  to  sit,  with  her  knitting,  in  the  front 
windows,  of  an  afternoon,  and  "  see  the  passing."  That  is  ex 
actly  what  I  mean  she  shall  do  now.  It  is  to  be  a  long  after 
noon,  and  the  "passing"  is  to  be  great  waves  and  grand  hori 
zons,  strange  people,  mountain-peaks,  queer  little  foreign  towns 
and  villages,  splendid  cities,  beautiful  pictures ;  a  whole  hemi 
sphere  of  panorama,  out  of  which  she  shall  take  what  is  her 
own.  And  the  comfort  is,  that  I  don't  believe  either  of  us  will 


PACKING  AND   POCKETS.  21 

make  pretense  of  appropriating  what  is  not  ours.  That  is  the 
pettiest  kind  of  petty  larceny. 

Gertrude  begged  me,  at  once,  to  go  with  the  Regises,  and 
take  Edith  in  my  own  charge.  She  had  never  been  more  thau 
half  content  with  the  plan  of  letting  her  go  with  her  "  step- 
cousin  ; "  and  yet  she  had  not  said  a  final  "  No  "  to  it.  My  un 
expected  determination  was  a  "  perfect  providence." 

Edith  is  just  a  little  delicate  in  health,  since  she  left  school, 
which  she  has  done  early.  The  doctor  has  forbidden  her  par 
ties  and  gay  watering  places,  but  advises  change  and  amuse 
ment.  Here  is  a  need,  again,  that  going  to  Europe  exactly 
meets.  What  a  wonderful  thing  it  is  that  the  descendants  of 
the  people  who  came  across  the  water  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  for  a  refuge  from  the  oppressions  and  tyrannous 
customs  of  life,  should  be  drifting  back  again  now,  as  the  only 
escape,  in  one  way  or  another,  from  the  penalties  and  weari 
nesses  of  our  own  civilization  ! 

Yet,  I  don't  quite  believe  —  and  I  say  it  beforehand  —  in  the 
"  rest "  of  Europe  that  everybody  promises  you.  I  think  I 
know  how  it  will  be ;  with  the  cares  of  travel,  and  the  different 
management,  and  the  unintelligible  speech,  and  the  strange 
money,  and  the  continual  reckoning  up  of  things  to  be  done  and 
weeks  to  do  them  in,  —  probable  expenses,  and  balance  of  credits, 
—  I  fancy  it  will  still  be  a  "  rest  that  remaineth  ;  "  and  that  we 
shall  begin  to  get  it  just  about  as  we  come  to  the  end  of  all  the 
fine  sights  according  to  Baedeker,  and  the  pounds  sterling  in 
our  banking  account.  Well,  it  will  be  something  to  look  for 
ward  to,  —  the  looking  back  upon  it  as  accomplished.  It  is  the 
"  toeing  off"  that  is  the  satisfaction,  after  all,  even  whilst  you 
knit  the  stocking. 

Gertrude  thought  I  might  do  as  well  without  Emery  Ann. 

"  A  foreign  maid,"  she  said,  "  who  knew  the  language,  —  or  a 
courier,  —  would  not  cost  so  much,  and  would  be  far  more  ser 
viceable.  Still,  no  doubt  it  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  feel 
that  she  was  with  me,  especially  if  I  should  be  sick  or  any 
thing." 

I  told  her  that  but  for  Emery  Ann,  I  certainly  should  not 


22  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

undertake  to  go  at  all.  And  she  did  not  know  the  reason  ;  and 
nobody  does,  but  you  and  Doctor  Deane.  Not  even  Emery  Ann 
herself.  She  thinks,  what  is  also  very  true,  that  I  will  not  let 
her  work  any  more,  and  that  I  cannot  keep  house  without  her, 
and  that  neither  she  nor  I  could  bear  to  let  an  Irish  girl  loose  in 
that  bright  little  home-kitchen,  to  have  her  way  among  the 
tins  and  coppers.  So  that  it  only  remains  for  us,  like  other 
people,  to  betake  ourselves  across  the  water  for  a  while,  to 
the  Great  Foreign  Refuge  for  discouraged  and  disgusted  Amer 
icans. 

As  to  the  kitchen,  —  Gertrude  is  to  bring  her  own  furnish 
ings.  She  prefers  it ;  and  the  stove  is  to  be  put  in  the  great 
"  shed-room  "  for  the  summer.  Her  kitchen  must  be  kept  off  a 
little;  ours  will  be  an  ante -room  between  it  and  the  parlors, 
and  her  servants  will  have  it  for  a  sitting-room  when  their  work 
is  done.  They  are  nice  sort  of  women,  too,  considering  ;  else  I 
don't  think  I  could  have  planned  it  so. 

Doctor  Deane  tried  to  compliment  me  one  day,  and  I  rather 
snubbed  him.  "  I  think  I  could  not  order  many  mistresses  to 
Europe,"  he  said,  "  for  the  health  of  their  maids." 

"  Doctor  Deane  !  "  said  I,  "  if  you  ordered  me  a  sea- voyage 
to  save  me  the  use  of  my  right  hand,  don't  you  think  I  should 
take  it  ?  " 

And  I  think  he  saw  that  that  was  simply  the  common  sense 
of  it. 

There  has  been  much  continual  question,  all  along,  of  what 
to  pack  to  go,  and  what  to  pack  to  leave  ;  what  to  get  new  now, 
and  what  to  buy  abroad ;  what  to  wear  at  sea,  and  what  to 
throw  overboard  before  we  land. 

"  It  will  do  to  put  through  the  port-holes,"  says  Emery  Ann 
to  half  the  old  things  in  wardrobe  and  bureau.  She  has  got  the 
word,  and  the  idea,  —  all  but  what  the  port-holes  actually  are. 
Very  likely  she  thinks  they  are  in  the  bottom  of  the  ship. 

"  I  don't  think  we  can  change  our  clothing  more  than  ten 

o  o 

times  in  as  many  days,"  I  said  to  her  at  last ;  and  after  that  she 
laid  aside  less  for  the  port-holes. 

Another  perplexity  has  been  the  sea-pockets. 


PACKING   AND   POCKETS.  23 

Mrs.  Shreve  had  made  me  one,  and  Seelie  Rubb  had  made 
another,  and  just  at  last  there  have  come  two  more,  from  the 
doctor's  daughter  and  the  minister's  wife.  One  has  a  place  for 
slippers,  and  another  two  nice  little  square  places  for  bottles 
fitted  in  ;  and  one  has  an  oiled  silk  sponge-bag,  and  one  a  beauti 
ful  deep  catch-all  at  the  bottom.  We  don't  know  which  we  had 
better  have  handiest,  and  we  never  shall  keep  the  run  of  things 
if  we  try  to  use  them  all.  I  have  packed  them  over  and  over 
again,  to  see ;  and  I  can't  remember  a  minute  where  I  put  the 
hair-pins,  and  where  the  pin-cushion ;  in  which  was  the  little 
spring  flask  for  cologne,  and  the  salts-bottle,  and  the  fan;  or 
whether  the  aconite  and  nux  vomica  vials  were  in  the  one  that 
was  to  go  over  the  washstand  or  in  the. berth.  I  didn't  know 
where  things  had  better  go.  I  was  sure  we  should  want  them 
all  everywhere ;  and  that  there  would  be  vast  and  impassable 
spaces  in  those  little  eight  feet  square  state-rooms,  as  soon  as  we 
began  to  be  miserable.  I  was  seasick  once,  going  down  to  Port 
land  ;  and  I  could  n't  get  a  clean  pocket-handkerchief  out  of  my 
hand-bag,  that  was  hung  up  in  the  farther  corner,  — just  beyond 
arm's-length,  —  all  night  long. 

As  to  my  keys,  and  my  eye-glasses,  and  my  little  sea-purse 
with  shillings  and  half-crowns  in  it,  I  mislaid  them  altogether, 
half  a  dozen  times,  and  grew  quite  hopeless  about  them,  putting 
them  into  safe  and  convenient  places.  In  the  end,  I  think 
everything  will  settle  into  the  big  catch-all,  as  the  sea  itself 
finds  its  level ;  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  that  (you 
won't  think  I  mean  the  sea)  shall  at  any  rate  be  tacked  up 
in  my  berth. 

Eliphalet  has  ordered  a  box  of  Weld  Farm  cider  for  us,  and 
Mrs.  Deane  has  brought  me  pretty  nearly  a  peck  of  popped 
corn  in  a  pillow-case  !  The  Doctor  laughed  at  her,  she  said ; 
but  she  did  n't  care  ;  "  somebody  who  had  been  "  had  told  her  it 
was  the  best  thing  in  the  world  to  eat  at  sea.  It  makes  a  huge 
brown  paper  parcel  in  its  final  wrapping ;  but  what  will  any 
body  think  it  is  who  seizes  hold  of  it,  as  they  all  will,  the  first 
thing,  to  relieve  me  ;  while  I  shall  lug  unnoticed,  the  little 
casket,  heavy  with  books  and  bottles  ?  Is  n't  it  much  the 


24  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

sort  of  helping  we  are  apt  to  get  with  our  life-hurdens  ?  So 
that  people  whose  few  grains  of  trouble  are  all  popped,  make 
pathetic  show  with  them,  and  get  them  taken  off  their  hands 
directly,  while  some  of  us  struggle  on  as  we  may  with  little 
visible  lead  weights  that  strain  hard  and  sore  upon  the  heart- 
strength  ? 


SHIP-RIGGING.  25 


CHAPTER  V. 

SHIP-RIGGING. 


....  I  DARE  say  you  are  quite  right  in  prophesying  that 
1  cannot  be  so  minute  in  everything  for  a  whole  year  of  going 
and  doing,  as  I  am  now  in  these  little  breathing  spaces  of  rest 
and  looking  forward,  with  all  that  relates  to  the  year's  plan  and 
expectation,  so  fresh  and  minute  in  its  interest  for  myself.  But 
you  need  not  bid  me  "  drop  the  letter-writing  just  whenever 
and  wherever  it  grows  to  be  a  tax."  All  my  hiving-up  of  what 
I  am  to  gather  is  to  be  with  you,  Rose.  It  is  good  to  have  a 
savings-bank  to  put  your  pennies  in.  "  When  a-twister  a-twisting 
would  twist  him  a  twist,"  some  one  at  the  home  end  must  hold 
to  the  twist !  It  was  to  have  been  the  dear  little  mother  ;  but 
she  holds  the  other  home-end  for  me  now  !  It  is  the  self-same 
thread  that  reaches  on  toward  her,  and  as  it  twists  it  shortens, 
and  I  feel  her  fingers  drawing  at  the  line  ! 

There  is  something  in  this  going  over  to  the  "  other  side," 
which  I  look  to  for  a  great  comfort. 

I  shall  know  that  there  is  another  side. 

The  ocean  and  the  Alps  are  really  there.  I  shall  find  it  out 
as  all  the  maps  and  the  descriptions  have  never  shown  it  to  me. 

We  think  about  the  things  in  this  world  that  we  have  never 
seen,  much  as  we  believe  in  the  things  of  the  other  world.  We 
do  not  doubt ;  they  have  a  place  in,  and  qualify,  all  our  thoughts 
and  notions  ;  we  know  they  work  into  our  life  ;  but  they  are 
not  great,  present  facts  to  us.  They  do  not  palpably  seem. 

I  am  going,  now,  into  those  actual  presences.  I  shall  learn 
how  real  they  are.  I  shall  know,  I  think,  better  than  I  have 
ever  known,  how  real  the  things  may  be  that  lie  upon  that 
other  side,  to  which  men  cross  but  once,  and  come  not  back,  nor 


26  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

send  to  us,  with  stories  of  their  travel.  I  shall  be  able  to  think 
that  life  and  love,  like  the  planet,  are  round ;  and  that  though 
we  lose  out  of  our  little  horizon,  nothing  that  holds  to  them  by 
the  eternal  gravitation  ever  falls  away. 

It  is  good  for  me  to  write  to  you,  my  Rose-Noble.  There  is 
twice  doing  in  it.  The  thought  and  the  telling  that  go  west,  go 
east  also,  toward  that  "  heavenly  quarter "  where  some  have 
said  God's  presence  shines  like  a  sun  above  the  angelic  faces ! 
And,  —  oh,  it  is  manifold  with  meaning  !  I  shall  feel,  too,  how 
certain  it  must  be,  after  all,  that  from  out  that  heavenly  morn 
ing,  sweet  words  and  breaths  are  sent  back  into  our  waiting 
twilights,  —  writings  are  made  in  our  hearts  of  the  blessed 
things  that  they  walk  in  the  midst  of,  in  that  near,  fair,  Other 
Side! 

I  shall  be  getting  messages ;  it  is  greatly  what  I  have  in  my 
thought  and  hope  in  going.  When  I  stand  in  wonderful  places, 
where  the  rocky  spires  shoot  up  into  the  blue,  and  the  white  gla 
ciers  come  down  in  awful  splendor,  I  shall  reach  farther,  I  think, 
and  touch  nearer,  to  the  glories  and  marvels  among  which  she  is 
moving,  and  which  she  longs  and  tries  to  share  with  me,  — 
through  these,  that  are  of  the  same. 

There  is  no  gift  or  greatness  of  experience  that  ever  descends 
upon  me,  that  does  not  seem  to  come  by  her.  Not  the  less,  or 
even  the  less  directly  from  the  Father  of  lights  ;  because  I  think, 
gladly,  how  "He  maketh  his  angels,  spirits;  his  ministers,  a 
flame  of  fire."  What  can  that  mean,  said  of  Him  whose  is  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  whose  thoughts  toward  us  are  angels,  —  who 
is  himself  the  central  sun  of  being,  —  except  that  the  very  heart- 
pulses  out  of  the  fire  of  his  love  are  living  flames,  —  hearts  also, 
and  that  loving  hands  are  bearers  of  the  bread  with  which  He 
feeds  us  out  of  heaven  ? 

The  breaking  of  the  bread,  Rose!  The  sharing!  It  was  in 
this  that  the  Lord  was  made  known  to  them.  The  morsels  — • 
blessed  and  given  to  her  above  —  that  she  reaches  down  to  me, 
I  will  break  again  with  you ;  and  so,  across  deeps  and  deeps,  we 
will  all  take  together  of  the  communion. 

The  two  young  girls  have  been  so  glad  and  busy  together. 
For  Mrs.  Regis  and  Margaret  are  staying  at  Eliphalet's,  now. 


SHIP-RIGGING.  27 

It  has  been  so  important  what  they  should  have  for  their  ship- 
dresses,  and  then  to  travel  •  in  afterward.  I  was  there  one  day, 
when  Edith  came  up  from  Winter  Street  with  patterns.  There 
was  no  camel's  hair  to  be  got  in  the  right  shade,  —  the  one  she 
had  set  her  heart  upon.  But  this,  in  the  newer  stuff —  "  West- 
End  frieze  "  —  was  almost  exactly  like,  and  the  shopman  said 
"  camel's  hair  was  rather  going  by,  there  were  so  many  imita 
tions  ;  it  was  better  style  to  wear  the  frieze." 

"  West-End  freeze,  now,  is  it  ?  "  said  Eliphalet,  who  pretends 
to  laugh,  but  whom  nothing  escapes  in  his  girl's  equipment  and 
appearance.  "  Have  it,  by  all  means  ;  only  next  week  it  will 
probably  be  South-End  thaw,  and  then  what  will  you  do  ? 
That 's  the  Boston  climate,  Pashie  !  " 

But  the  child  has  got  a  pretty  suit,  and  if  anybody  is  pretty 
on  a  sea  voyage,  she  will  be.  The  rough,  russet-colored  stuff, 
with  its  big  polished-wood  buttons,  looks  so  comfortable  and 
jaunty  and  ship-shape,  and  the  loose,  large  hood  with  its  silk 
lining  of  the  same  color,  makes  her  look  like  a  brown  gypsy  or  a 
brown  nun,  I  don't  know  which.  She  has  a  brown  leather  belt 
and  reticule,  and  a  brown  veil  and  a  sealskin -jacket,  and  a  beau 
tiful  brown-shaded  lap-rug. 

Margaret's  dress  is  black,  with  a  scarlet  hood-lining,  and  her 
rug  is  in  scarlet  and  black  stripes ;  and  Mrs.  Regis  has  given 
her  a  tiny  scarlet  belt-bag,  with  black  clasps. 

"  Don't  be  too  kind  to  me,  mamma,"  she  said,  when  she 
took  it. 

She  never  says  "  mamma  "  unless,  for  the  moment,  she  feels 
it.  I  have  found  that  out.  And  I  never  saw  a  creature  who 
felt  a  kindness  quicker. 

What  will  they  all  say  when  they  see  Emery  Ann's  "  pump 
kin  hood  ?  " 

"I  know  what  you  want,  out  in  a  high  wind,"  she  says  to 
me  ;  "  and  there  's  nothing  like  a  punkin." 

It  has  five  double  runnings,  and  five  fat  rolls  between,  and 
five  bows,  one  behind  another,  and  a  half-ellipse  crown-piece  flat 
against  the  back  of  her  head,  and  it  is  made  of  green-figured 
brocade,  fifty  years  old.  And  she  has  got  a  yard  and  a  quarter 
of  green  barege  for  a  veil  or  a  necktie,  as  may  happen.  It  had 


28  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

not  occurred  to  me,  until  she  produced  it,  that  you  never  do  see 
green  barege  veils  nowadays.  I  think  she  could  not  have 
bought  it  new ;  it  must  have  been  laid  away  among  her  stores, 
with  the  brocade.  But  I  did  not  ask  her.  If  ever  I  make  a 
suggestion  to  Emery  Ann  about  her  dress,  it  must  be  before 
hand  of  her  preparations.  And,  indeed,  it  is  the  nicest  way 
with  everybody. 

I  have  a  deck-dress,  too,  a  warm,  fur-lined  silk  sacque,  and  a 
velvet  hood  with  a  violet  lining.  But  I  have  a  berth-day  dress, 
—  and  I  am  afraid  most  of  my  days  on  board  will  be  berth- 
days,  —  a  long  gray  flannel  wrapper,  and  the  little  purple  and 
white  knit  head-gear  you  sent  me,  and  it  is  of  them  I  think  with 
the  firmest  satisfaction  and  reliance. 

I  believe  the  ship-rigging  is  complete.  I  think,  as  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  the  Nova  Zembla  is  ready  for  sea. 

A  note  came  two  days  ago  from  Mrs.  Regis,  with  "  V.  R."  in 
the  corner,  like  a  royal  missive,  telling  me  to  be  sure  and  have 
a  sea-chair,  and  an  India-rubber  hot-water  bag ;  by  which  I 
knew  that  she  would  have  her  own,  and  that  nobody  near  her 
must  look  uncomfortable.  So  I  ordered  the  sea-chair,  with 
"  P.  S."  painted  on  the  back,  as  was  suitable  for  the  last  thing 
thought  of.  But  I  have  motherdie's  dear  little  tin  foot-warmer, 
which  is  better  than  any  bag,  and  warms  heart  and  feet  both, 
being  a  little  piece  of  the  very  home-corner  of  home  that  I  can 
take  all  over  the  world  with  me. 

How  can  people  help  loving  things,  when  they  are  all  full  of 
life  magnetism,  that  even  a  finger-touch  gets  the  thrill  of? 
Eliphalet  says,  "  Don't  cumber  yourself  with  holding  on  to  all 
the  traps  you  Ve  ever  '  got  attached  to.'  The  longer  you  keep 
them,  the  harder  it  will  be  to  let  them  go,  and  they  keep  accu 
mulating  all  the  time.  You  can't  carry  anything  out  of  the 
world,  and  you  can't  carry  round  much  in  it.  I  always  get  rid 
of  old  relics." 

"  You  '11  be  an  old  relic  yourself,  pretty  soon,  papa,"  said 
queer  little  Jeannie,  who  stood  behind  him,  smoothing  and  play 
ing  with  the  hair  that  begins  to  shine  with  white. 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.        29 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS. 


....  WE  were  notified  to  be  at  East  Boston  Wharf  at  nine 
o'clock  on  Tuesday.  So  we  were  up  at  five,  and  ate  our  break 
fast  together,  Emery  Ann  and  I,  without  saying  much.  Our 
silence  said,  "  It  is  the  last  time." 

I  drank  my  coffee  out  of  mother's  brown-sprigged  china  cup, 
and  then  washed  it,  and  put  it  away  in  cotton-wool  wrappings, 
in  the  little  old  cabinet  where  I  keep  "  relics,"  and  of  which  the 
key  goes  with  me  on  the  ribbon  round  my  neck,  with  mother's 
ring  and  picture.  Mrs.  Shreve  is  to  take  the  cabinet  to  her 
house,  when  Eliphalet's  folks  leave  for  the  city  in  the  fall. 

I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  take  out  the  sprigged  tea-cup  again, 
and  drink  from  it  ?  If  I  do  not,  it  will  be  that  I  drink,  instead, 
from  the  cup  filled  with  the  wine  that  shall  be  new  in  the  King 
dom.  So  I  trust,  and  so  I  have  said  to  myself,  when  I  have 
waked  in  the  night,  with  that  strange,  startled  feeling  of  what  is 
before  me,  and  the  wonder  that  I  never  knew  all  my  life  before 
what  the  blessing  was  of  sleeping  quietly  in  the  bed  where  I 
have  slept  since  I  was  a  child,  —  beside  which  prayers  seem  to 
have  less  far  to  go  to  God,  —  in  the  safety  of  the  old  home, 
where  rain  or  sun  might  wake  me  to  equally  sure  comfort 
in  the  morning,  with  immovable  timbers  and  solid  earth,  like 
Almighty  strength,  beneath  me,  and  so,  not  a  fear  in  my  heart. 

So  ?  It  ought  not  to  be  so  ;  though  we  must  thank  God  for 
the  peaceful  environment.  For  the  unresting  floods  move  by 
Him,  also ;  the  sea  is  his,  and  He  made  it. 

It  is  like  the  moon-picture ;  the  fluid  weight,  —  the  floating 
rest.  I  will  think  of  that.  I  will  seem  to  myself  more  in  his 
hand  than  ever,  when  I  drift  in  that  immensity  where  power  is 


30  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

almost  tangible,  and  I  can  feel  the  liftings  and  fallings  with 
which,  as  if  I  were  a  child  in  arms,  He  tends  me.  If  I  go  down 
to  the  depths,  He  will  go  with  me,  and  instantly  I  shall  be  at 
the  Land  whither  I  went,  with  the  face  I  waited  for  shining 
suddenly  upon  me. 

What  if  He  say  to  me,  "  Thou  shalt  not  cross  this  Jordan  ?  " 
It  will  be  that  He  shall  bear  me  over  into  the  other  Canaan, 
and  unto  the  better  promise. 

We  got  into  a  hurry,  in  that  last  hour,  notwithstanding  all 
the  thoroughness  of  our  preparation.  Emery  Ann's  leather 
trunk  would  n't  shut  down  and  hasp,  and  I  had  to  go  half  way 
to  the  bottom  of  the  one  I  had  marked  for  -the  hold,  to  get 
out  some  writing-paper  to  use  on  shipboard.  Then,  at  the  last 
minute,  the  front-door  key,  that  had  never  been  on  the  outside 
of  the  lock  for  years  before,  would  not  turn ;  and  everything 
else  was  bolted  and  barred,  and  I  was  to  take  this  key  in  to 
Eliphalet. 

"  Things  make  me  madder  than  people,  I  do  testify,"  said 
Emery  Ann,  as  she  struggled  with  it.  "  Things  do  act  like 
creation,  sometimes." 

"  They  act  as  if  they  knew"  I  said,  thinking  of  the  cor 
respondence,  and  that  to  lock  ourselves  out  of  the  old  home 
could  n't  and  should  n't  be  done  in  the  turn  of  a  finger.  The 
little  practical  hindrance  and  bother  saved  us,  after  all,  from 
some  of  the  hardness  and  suddenness  of  the  turning  away. 

We  had  to  drive  round  by  Mrs.  Shreve's,  and  give  her  the 
key,  and  tell  her  that  we  had  left  the  door  unfastened,  and  that 
she  must  see  to  it  and  have  it  fixed,  and  keep  the  key  for  Eliph 
alet. 

"  And  don't  let  me  forget  to  tell  him,  Emery  Ann,"  I  said. 

"  Don't  put  it  on  to  me,"  said  that  good  soul,  imperatively. 
"There  aint  no  'M'  to  the  beginning  of  my  name,  and  never 
was.  And  what  I  used  to  remember  at  all  by,  I  'm  all  unhitched 
from  now ! " 

One  way  and  another,  we  had  lost  a  full  half  hour.  Elipha 
let  and  Edith  and  Gertrude  had  crossed  the  ferry  two  trips 
before  us,  and  had  begun  to  watch  anxiously,  when  we  drove  in 
at  last  under  the  long,  open  shed,  full  of  groups  of  passengers 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :     IN   MANY    PARAGRAPHS.        31 

and  their  friends,  and  piles  of  luggage,  with  a  line  of  carriages 
moving  in  and  out  through  the  midst. 

It  had  seemed  so  queer,  riding  through  Boston,  —  seeing  the 
stores  just  open,  as  usual,  where  we  had  done  busy  shopping 
within  the  last  few  weeks,  and  at  whose  counters  we  should  not 
stand  again  for  such  a  strange,  long  time,  yet  where  the  buy 
ing  and  selling  and  crowding  and  parceling  and  callings  of 
"  Cash ! "  and  weary  waitings  for  change  would  be  going  on 
daily  just  the  same ;  the  horse-cars  that  we  had  dodged  and 
signaled  around  that  frantic  Boylston  Street  corner,  where  they 
come  from  every  way  and  go  so  many  that  you  are  half  sure 
to  take  the  wrong  one  and  get  whisked  back  through  Temple 
Place  again  ;  the  boys  selling  morning  papers  ;  Park  Street 
Church,  and  dear  King's  Chapel,  and  the  Museum,  where  we  had 
been  with  Gertrude  and  the  children  to  see  Warren  in  the 
"  Overland  Route  ;  "  all  moving  swiftly  back  and  vanishing  be 
hind  us,  as  pretty  soon  the  continent  —  the  holding  of  all  our 
life  —  would  do. 

"  It  seems  as  if  everybody  was  done  with  it,  and  it  was  going 
to  be  sunk,  don't  it?"  said  Emery  Ann.  She  always  hits  the 
nail  of  my  thoughts  on  the  head  with  her  short-handled  little 
hammer. 

And  here  I  must  assure  you,  Rose,  that  when  downright 
earnest  does  not  demand  it,  and  when  outside  surrounding  puts 
her  at  a  longer  range  of  ceremony,  she  has  a  longer  handle  for 
the  conversation,  and  can  give  gentler  taps  ;  even,  if  she  chose, 
the  little,  delicate,  polite  ones,  like  other  people's,  that  don't 
drive  anything  ;  though  unless  speech  be  directly  required  of 
her,  I  think  she  chooses  rather  the  simple  sublimity  of  silence. 
So  that  I  have  no  uneasiness  as  to  her  being  misunderstood,  — 
I  certainly  do  not  care  for  her  committal  of  myself,  —  among 
any  persons,  of  reasonable  apprehension,  with  whom  we  may 
be  thrown.  She  can  restrain  her  negatives,  and  forego  con 
tractions,  and  even  take  the  trouble  of  final  g's.  But  what  if 
she  does  n*t  ?  When  she  lightens  herself  of  impedimenta,  it  is 
apt  to  be  that  she  may  march  down  upon  something;  and  her 
batteries  of  common  sense  are  shotted  with  forceful  dialect,  as 
cannon  are  made  emphatic  with  canister. 


32  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

We  found  our  party  sitting  about  on  their  boxes,  near  one  of 
the  great  doors  which  opened  out  on  to  the  wharf.  A  man  was 
going  round  with  a  paste-pot  and  labels,  putting  printed  papers 
on  all  the  pieces  of  luggage,  —  "  HOLD,"  or  "  STATE-ROOM,"  — 
in  big  letters.  When  we  got  all  our  things  together,  the  names 
and  letters  made  curiously  funny  contrasts  and  unexpectedly 
imposing  conjunctions. 

There  was  "  Stuart  Regis,  U.  S.  Army,"  on  one  piece  ; 
"  V.  R."  on  another,  to  which  the  paste-pot  man  was  just  affix 
ing  the  appropriate  ticket,  "STATE-ROOM";  "Strong,"  on  a 
zinc-covered  box  that  looked  ominous  of  treasure  ;  and  here 
came  "  Tudor,"  on  Emery  Ann's  new  square  trunk,  to  antag 
onize  the  "  Stuart "  and  complete  the  royal  group.  "  E.  A.  T." 
in  close-printed  brass  letters  was  on  the  end  of  the  little,  old- 
fashioned,  knapsack-shaped  leather  one  ;  and  "  P.  S."  was  con 
spicuous  on  the  box  that  tumbled  up  last,  in  such  a  hurry. 

The  girls  read  them  off,  and  laughed  about  them.  I  told  of 
a  lady,  whom  I  recollected,  who  used  to  travel  with  a  great 
black  "  Saratoga"  marked  in  white  letters,  "  C.  A.  T.,"  and  the 
porters  used  to  call  it  the  "  black  cat,"  with  a  perfect  participle 
before  the  adjective  of  color. 

With  these  trifles  we  passed  away  the  minutes  that,  however 
precious,  one  never  knows  what  to  do  with,  —  the  last  before 
the  actual  and  long  "  good-by." 

Gertrude  sat  beside  Edith,  on  the  "  Strong "  box,  the  girl's 
hand  held  fast  in  her  own ;  Eliphalet  moved  about,  here  and 
there,  never  far  off,  and  pausing  close,  first  to  one,  then  the  other, 
of  us  two,  who  were  the  whole  ship's  company  to  him  ;  several 
of  Mrs.  Regis's  friends  had  come  over  to  "  see  her  off,"  and  she 
stood,  with  her  hands  full  of  flowers,  chatting  pleasantly  with 
them.  A  young  man  in  the  nicest  of  gray  morning  suits,  with 
a  white  carnation  in  his  button-hole,  had  found  his  way  to  Mar 
garet  Regis,  and  she,  too,  held  a  fresh  bouquet,  shyly,  as  if  it 
had  a  meaning  in  it.  A  stylishly  dressed  girl  was  talking  and 
laughing  with  them  both,  and  called  the  young  man  "  Harry." 
I  noticed  that  Mrs.  Regis  occupied  herself  with  her  own  group 
in  rather  a  marked  way,  and  that  she  and  her  step- daughter 
seemed  to  have  quite  separate  leave-takings. 


THE  LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN   MANY  PARAGRAPHS.        33 

Is  this  breach  of  tacit  confidence,  I  wonder,  Rose-Noble? 
I  don't  think  I  can  help  it,  if  you  are,  as  we  agreed,  to  go  with 
me,  and  have  all  my  insights.  What  are  statues,  and  pictures, 
and  steeples,  or  even  mountains  and  ice-torrents  and  cascades 
of  cloud,  compared  to  the  human  life  beside  us,  to  which  the 
keys  of  our  own  heart-hidings  let  us  in  ? 

There  was  talk  about  the  "  tug,"  and  "going  down."  There 
was  a  new  rule  about  it,  it  seemed  ;  the  company  had  found 
that  every  passenger  had  a  party,  and  that  it  would  soon  require 
a  squadron  to  escort  Her  Majesty's  mail  packet  down  Boston 
harbor  ;  so,  ostensibly,  there  were  to  be  no  permissions,  yet  it 
was  very  well  known  that  the  tug  would  bring  back  as  many  as 
she  could  well  accommodate. 

"  Of  cou-rse,  one  could  ma-nage  it,"  said  "  Harry,"  with  the 
indescribable  English  repose  of  lengthened  syllables  by  way  of 
emphasis,  and  the  rising  inflection  at  the  end  of  his  sentence, 
which  have  got  to  be  "  the  thing."  "  But  it 's  hardly  worth 
whi-le.  They  '11  want  a  little  time  to  themse-lves,  I  fancy,  be 
fore  the  pitching  begi-ns ;  and  you  'd  be  dead  su-re  to  be  si-ck, 
Flora ! " 

Margaret  had  turned  a  little  aside  while  he  was  speaking,  to 
answer  an  official  who  asked  some  question  about  valises  for 
the  state-rooms,  and  then  she  walked  a  step  farther  toward  the 
doorway,  and  looked  out  —  I  thought,  to  see  if  there  was  any 
movement  toward  getting  on  board.  It  was  only  a  step,  —  not 
out  of  hearing  or  conversation,  —  and  Harry,  without  a  notice 
able  pause,  referred  to  her  in  the  same  quiet  and  very  gentle 
manly  tone,  "  Don't  you  think  so,  Margaret?" 

He  called  her  "  Margaret,"  then. 

"  I  ?  "  said  Margaret,  as  if  first  noticing.  "  About  going 
down,  —  oh,  yes,  I  always  think  that  is  nonsense.  People  must 
turn  back,  sometime." 

But  there  was  a  faint  quality  in  her  tone,  that  to  me  who  had 
caught  the  meanings  in  tones  for  forty-eight  years,  sounded  as  if 
people  might  wish  to  go  as  far  as  they  could,  whether  they  did 
it  or  not.  I  do  not  think  Harry  observed  it  at  all,  and  possibly 
she  did  not  herself  analyze  it.  And  then  it  occurred  to  me  that 
here  were  two  young  persons,  between  whose  thoughts,  perhaps, 
a 


34  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

there  ought  to  be  some  delicate  echo  that  was  not ;  and  that 
one  of  the  two  just  faintly  missed  it. 

Maybe  you  will  tell  me  that  I  was  in  a  great  hurry  with  my 
insights,  but  I  could  not  help  them.  They  will  come.  I  will 
try  and  not  let  them  do  any  mischief.  As  Emery  Ann  said 
once,  about  thoughts :  "  You  can't  hinder  'em,  any  more  than 
you  can  the  birds  that  fly  in  the  air ;  but  you  need  n't  let  'em 
light  and  make  a  nest  in  your  hair." 

The  great  bustle,  that  we  had  waited  for  as  if  it  were  not  com 
ing,  began  all  at  once.  There  had  been  some  change  of  pro 
gramme.  The  steamer  had  been  hauled  round  to  another  wharf, 
and  it  seemed  a  few  persons  had  had  the  sagacity  to  discover  it  in 
time,  and  to  drive  around  and  go  on  board  there.  We  had  seen  a 
carriage,  in  which  was  a  well-known  prima-donna,  drive  up  near 
us  and  go  away  again  after  the  lady  had  exchanged  a  sentence  or 
two  with  a  friend,  and  we  thought  she  had  only  come  to  take  leave 
of  some  one.  But  we  saw  her  name,  now,  on  two  large  boxes, 
and  were  told  that  she  was  to  be  of  our  ship's  company.  There 
were  two  tugs  puffing  off  steam  at  the  pier  side,  and  one  was 
being  heaped  rapidly  with  luggage.  Toward  the  other,  across 
an  intervening  vessel,  a  stream  of  passengers  was  moving,  and 
the  word  was  passed  suddenly  along.  Our  moment  had  really 
come. 

Gertrude  held  Edith  in  one  hard,  close  grasp  in  her  arms,  and 
let  her  go.  Eliphalet  kissed  her,  and  shook  my  hands  strenu 
ously.  He  does  not  kiss  much ;  and  perhaps  I  did  not  look  as 
if  I  expected  it ;  we  have  been  grown  up  and  quiet  so  long ; 
but  I  know,  at  any  rate,  that  we  kissed  one  another  in  our 
hearts,  if  we  did  not  in  the  sight  of  the  crowd. 

"  Good-bye,  Pashie ;  take  care  of  yourself! " 

And  we  were  on  the  plank,  and  then  in  the  crowded  little 
boat,  whose  hot  deck  gave  hardly  standing  room  ;  and  they  were 
on  the  wharf,  with  their  carriage  waiting  behind  them. 

A  little  wave  of  hand  and  handkerchief,  —  a  few  more  move 
ments  in  the  crowd  around  us  and  around  them,  —  and  that  was 
the  last.  I  knew  Eliphalet  would  hurry  Gertrude  home,  and  I 
turned  round  and  talked  fast  to  Edith,  who  was  pushed  up 
against  a  capstan,  or  something,  and  made  her  sit  upon  it,  and 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        35 

put  her  feet  on  my  traveling  basket,  while  I  settled  down  on  a 
coil  of  rope.  "  Take  care  of  yourself !  "  I  was  sure  of  all  that 
Eliphalet  felt  and  meant ;  but  I  thought  over  that  queer  mod 
ern  phrase  of  farewell,  which  takes  the  place  of  the  solemn  old 
prayerful  blessing.  It  is  like  all  the  other  outsides  we  stop  in, 
nowadays  ;  shrinking  from  sounding  deep.  Nothing  goes  into 
word,  that  is  not  tangible  and  practicable.  Common  speech  is 
full  of  straws  that  tell  the  way  of  the  world  in  the  world's  think 
ings.  I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  come  to  —  "  Bye,  bye  !  Look 
out  for  your  atoms  !  " 

Was  n't  it  queer  that  I  caught  myself  fancying  that,  in  the 
midst  of  my  real  heart-parting  ?  If  I  had  been  writing  a  com 
mon,  conventional  letter,  I  should  not  have  put  it  in.  Per 
haps  I  should  not  have  remembered  it.  I  should  only  have 
recalled  the  general  mood,  natural  and  of  course,  and  have 
credited  myself  with  nothing  but  the  inevitable  sentiment  of 
the  occasion. 

Are  they  deep  down  and  significant,  or  do  they  only  float  over 
depths  with  which  they  have  nothing  to  do,  —  these  odd  per 
ceptions  and  suggestions  that  come  to  us  at  the  flood-tides  of 
experience  ? 

I  did  not  see  how  Margaret  and  the  Mackenzies  —  I  heard 
some  one  speak  of  that  young  girl  as  "  Flora  Mackenzie  "  — 
parted.  I  was  not  looking.  I  am  not  always  looking  out  or 
in. 

I  thought  something,  —  of  constraint,  weariness,  pain,  whatever 
it  might  be,  —  had  lifted  from  Margaret's  face,  as  the  boat  moved 
off.  The  prolonging  of  feeling  that  belongs  to  an  unavoidable 
moment  is  a  weariness.  She  sat  down  low  upon  her  shawl-bag, 
and  the  people  about  her  closed  her  in.  She  got  up,  once,  as  we 
rounded  the  pier  end,  when  somebody  said,  "  There  they  are." 
She  waved  her  handkerchief,  as  if  in  case  it  might  be  seen,  and 
then  her  eyes  seemed  to  search  the  crowd  uncertainly.  I  do  not 
know  whether  she  discovered  her  friends'  faces  or  not. 

"  What  is  the  use  ?  "  she  said,  as  she  met  my  look  and  sat 
down  again.  "  We  may  as  well  begin  our  year's  parenthesis." 

It  was  a  curious  expression,  was  it  not,  for  a  young  girl,  out 
of  whose  life  a  whole  year  roust  seem  so  much? 


36  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

I  saw  that  Mrs.  Regis  heard  it,  and  took  some  meaning  from 
it.  But  a  life  parenthesis  may  include  more  than  it  interrupts. 

Nova  Zembla ! 

We  felt  it  more  like  Tartarus,  as  we  climbed  on  board. 
The  July  heat  that  had  steamed  us,  like  potted  pigeons,  on  the 
deck  of  the  crowded  tug,  was  blazing  in  the  air,  and  reflected 
from  the  white-scoured  planks,  and  the  flashing  brass  of  capstan, 
and  compass,  and  belaying-pins.  We  cast  a  longing  glance  at 
the  seats  under  the  protecting  awning ;  but  we  had  to  dive 
down  the  companion-way,  as  soon  as  we  could  find  it,  and  rush 
about  like  lost  rabbits  in  a  burrow,  among  the  narrow,  bewilder 
ing  passages,  and  from  side  to  side  of  the  vessel,  in  search  of  our 
state-rooms,  which  we  knew  so  well  on  the  ship's  plan,  but 
which  seemed  all  turned  round  and  mixed  up  now  we  had  got 
among  them. 

Fore  was  aft,  and  aft  fore  ;  port  and  starboard  were  unknown 
terms  ;  and  right  and  left  were  nowhere.  It  was  all  wrong,  and 
nothing  left ;  there  was  "  a  hen  in  every  nest,"  Emery  Ann 
said ;  and  every  hen  had  brought  a  brood  with  her.  But  at  last 
we  found  out  where  to  look  for  the  numbers,  and  remembered 
that  Emery  Ann's  and  mine  were  121-2-3-4 ;  the  big  corner 
state-room,  amidships  ;  and  we  flew  to  the  four  corners,  and  dis 
covered  it  at  the  fourth.  There  had  been  a  crowd  there  before, 
or  we  should  have  seen  our  bags  and  boxes  piled  up  within  the 
doorway. 

The  little  passage  next,  from  which  opened  the  room  that 
Edith  was  to  share  with  some  other  lady,  —  Mrs.  Regis  and 
Margaret  were  quite  on  the  opposite  side,  with  a  double  row  of 
inside  state-rooms  between,  —  was  filled  up  by  three  or  four  per 
sons,  gentlemen  and  a  lady,  who  chattered  volubly  to  some  one 
farther  in  and  out  of  sight. 

Well !  Was  this  the  "  big  state-room "  that  we  had  chosen, 
and  that  Mrs.  Regis  was  so  glad  we  had,  because  she  had  the 
mate  to  it  ?  It  was  exactly  large  enough,  in  the  space  between 
sofa,  and  washstand,  and  berths,  and  the  box  that  must  remain 
just  inside  the  door,  for  two  persons  to  stand,  close  together ;  I 
may  say,  if  they  affectionately  embraced.  But  there  was  a 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :     IN   MANY  PARAGRAPHS.        37 

sofa ;  and  in  the  corner,  at  its  foot,  under  the  port-hole,  a  square 
projection  that  afforded  a  top  like  a  table.  On  this  we  piled 
bags  and  baskets,  and  ranged  a  few  essentials  in  some  order. 

"  If  they  '11  only  stay  put,"  said  Emery  Ann.  "  But  I  sup 
pose  they  '11  be  all  upside  down,  and  we  too,  as  soon  as  we  start. 

"  Then  it  won't  make  much  difference  as  to  our  mutual  rela 
tions,"  said  Edith,  laughing. 

"  I  presume  it  won't,"  said  Emery  Ann,  solemnly. 

We  tacked  up  the  "  catch-all,"  and  hung  two  other  sea-pock 
ets  on  hooks,  near  the  looking-glasses.  We  lifted  one  box  down 
from  the  other,  and  pushed  it  close  to  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  in 
front.  Now,  one  person  could  stand,  and  one  could  sit. 

We  unrolled  our  shawl  bundles,  and  took  out  our  hoods. 
Emery  Ann  looked  with  a  sudden  mistrust  at  her  "  punkin." 

"  Do  you  s'pose  I  shall  wear  that,  Fourth  o'  July  ?  I  'm  in 
clined  to  think  I  was  partially  distracted  when  I  made  it. 

"  The  Fourth  will  find  us  somewhere  off  Newfoundland,  I 
imagine,"  said  I ;  "  with  the  winds,  maybe,  coming  down  from 
Labrador." 

"  Does  n't  appear  likely  now,  does  it  ?  "  And  she  laid  the 
green  pumpkin,  which  it  certainly  seemed  might  ripen  in  many 
days  of  weather  like  this,  up  into  her  berth. 

She  had  insisted  on  taking  the  upper  berth.  "  I  was  always 
famous  for  climbin',"  she  remarked ;  "  and  you  know  you  're 
sure  to  tumble  if  you  get  a  chance." 

Meanwhile,  poor  Edith,  who  had  made  another  essay  toward 
her  own  beleaguered  quarters,  came  back,  still  crowded  out. 

I  hastened  to  present  myself  with  her  at  the  entrance  to  the 
passage.  "  This  is  Number  108,  I  believe,"  I  remarked,  inquir 
ingly,  to  a  stout  personage  who  stood  between  the  doors. 

"  Ah!  Is  it  this  lady  who  has  Number  108  ?"  the  large  gen 
tleman  returned,  blandly,  with  a  foreign  accent.  "  Allow  me  to 
introduce  to  you,  Madame,  my  wife." 

"  Madame,  my  wife,"  partly  emerged  at  the  word,  and  Mon 
sieur,  the  husband,  stood  back  as  flat  against  the  partition  as  his 
dimensions  would  allow,  that  Edith  and  she  might  peep  at  each 
other  across  him.  "  Madame,  my  wife,"  was  also  very  stout. 
And  Madame's  boxes  and  rugs  were  everywhere.  The  small 


38  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS, 

sofa  was  occupied  with  a  large,  flat  piece  of  luggage,  which  had 
refused  to  go  under  the  berth ;  and  upon  this  were  a  portman 
teau,  shawls,  and  several  bulky  parcels. 

"  You  had  better  come  back  with  me,  Edith,"  I  said,  with  per 
haps  a  slightly  severe  quietness,  "  until  Madame  has  had  time  to 
arrange  her  packages." 

"  Ah,  yes,  certainly,"  said  Madame.  "  They  will  all  go  quite 
well,  presently." 

But  I  had  a  persuasion  in  my  mind  that  they  would  "  go  quite 
Well "  all  across  the  Atlantic,  pretty  much  as  they  were,  with 
certain  not  comforting  allowance  for  the  plunging  of  the  ship. 
It  needed  only  a  glance  at  the  expression  of  things,  to  see  that. 
Edith  brought  her  little  valise  into  our  room,  and  hung  up  her 
hat  and  put  on  her  Capuchin  hood,  and  said  it  did  not  matter ; 
we  would  go  on  deck.  She  supposed  Monsieur  at  least,  would 
be  gone  by  and  by. 

"  At  all  events,  we  can  take  you  in,  or  whatever  you  want  to 
keep  here.  That  was  what  we  took  the  corner  state-room  for. 
you  know."  And  the  corner  state-room  suddenly  looked  palatial 
in  size,  and  homely  in  comfort,  after  the  heaping  and  confusion 
in  the  little  den  next  door. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  shall  never  get  on  with  Madame,  my  wife," 
said  Edith,  meekly. 

"  You  shan't,  if  you  don't  want  to,"  said  Emery  Ann,  briskly. 
"  I  '11  see  first  how  my  Yankee  will  fit  on  to  her  French,  or 
whatever  it  is." 

Mrs.  Regis  came  round  now,  to  see  that  we  had  every  com 
fort,  to  remind  us  of  the  things  that  we  should  want  close  at 
hand,  if  we  were  sick,  —  and  so  forth. 

"  You  have  brandy,  of  course  ?  And  lemons  ?  Yes  ;  and  a 
salt's-bottle  ?  And  there  's  your  foot-warmer.  Quite  nice,  es 
pecially  for  deck.  I  saw  your  chair,  as  we  came  down,  and  had 
it  put  in  a  good  place,  with  ours.  I  've  spoken  to  the  deck- 
steward,  and  we  shall  be  all  right,  I  've  no  doubt.  Will  you  go 
up  now?  Miss  Tudor,  you  will  need  your  hood.  You  have 
one  ?  We  shall  be  in  quite  another  climate  within  an  hour." 

As  we  went  up  the  stairs  she  said,  "  We  shall  have  seats 
at  the  first  table,  at  the  Captain's  end.  I  have  arranged  all 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      39 

that.     It  makes  a  great  difference  in  the  pleasantness  of  the 
voyage." 

We  were  steaming  smoothly  down  the  harbor.  Somehow, 
Deer  Island  and  Fort  Independence,  and  Blue  Hills  and  Fort 
Warren,  all  looked  very  different  to  me  from  what  they  ever 
had  done  in  day's  trips  down  to  Hingham  in  the  Rose  Stand- 
ish.  They  were  small  landmarks ;  they  had  to  do  with  but 
one  little  indentation  of  a  great  shore  we  were  leaving  for  an 
other  ;  though  the  little  indentation  was  the  harbor  of  the  Hub, 
and  all  the  world  we  had  ever  known  much  of  lay  right  around 
it.  Will  home,  and  place,  and  possession,  and  history,  look 
that  way  to  us  in  the  hour  of  setting  sail  across  the  Deep  whose 
ships  steer  only  eastward? 

We  sat  comfortably  in  our  chairs  under  the  awning,  —  Emery 
Ann  had  a  smaller  folding  seat,  which  was  all  she  would  have, 
—  and  made  our  first  observations  of  our  fellow  passengers,  in 
general.  We  could  not  be  quite  sure  who  were  to  be  with  us 
all  the  way,  for  the  tug  was  still  alongside ;  but  the  ladies  who 
had  put  by,  as  we  had,  high  hats  and  lace  veils,  and  who  in 
hoods  and  wraps  occupied  the  initialed  reclining  chairs,  were 
certainly  for  Liverpool ;  and  here  and  there  a  gentleman  not 
specially  attached  with  the  "  seeing  off"  air,  to  any  party,  and 
wearing  a  felt  wideawake,  or  a  sea-cap,  might  be  noted  as 
on  the  steamer's  list.  The  officers,  with  their  gold  bands  on 
sleeves  and  caps,  passed  to  and  fro.  I  wondered  which,  of  two 
stout  men  with  fine  faces,  and  exactly  similar  dress,  might  be 
Captain  K. 

What  a  curious  life  it  must  be,  sailing  back  and  forth,  carry 
ing  your  little  world  of  human  beings  with  you  always,  and 
changing  it  every  time !  Pretty  soon,  perhaps,  these  gentle 
men  would  begin  to  get  acquainted  and  make  themselves  agree 
able  among  us  all ;  and  it  would  always  seem  to  us  as  if  they 
had  been  especially  and  separately  our  friends,  because  they  had 
taken  us  over ;  yet  in  a  fortnight  they  would  be  turned  about 
again  with  a  fresh  fourscore,  and  we  should  have  been  tipped 
out  like  any  other  lading,  to  find  our  way  whithersoever  we 
had  been  sent. 


40  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

Mrs.  Regis  was  just  what  I  might  have  expected  her  to  be, — 
the  most  fittingly  and  harmoniously  arranged  woman  on  board. 
It  had  occurred  to  me  to  wonder  what  would  become  of  the 
invariable,  immaculate  cap  that  seemed  almost  like  a  part  of  her 
face  ;  and  what  would  replace  it. 

She  was  dressed  now  in  a  suit  of  fine  English  waterproof,  of 
deep,  black-purple ;  a  hood  of  the  same,  with  black  silk  lining 
and  tassels  hung  back  upon  her  shoulders  ;  and  upon  her  head 
was  a  fleecy,  knit  thing,  with  one  soft,  white  roll,  which  gave 
the  customary,  and  the  best  possible,  framing  to  her  features. 
I  thought,  looking  at  her,  of  the  piquant  speech  of  a  whimsical 
friend  of  ours,  that  "  a  woman  ought  to  be  born  a  widow  ; " 
"  perhaps,  and  fatherless,"  I  had  answered  at  the  moment ;  and 
the  absurd  mot  and  repartee  came  back  to  me  more  than  once 
afterwards.  People  are  born,  in  a  sense,  what  they  become  ; 
fate  is  folded  up  in  us  ;  but  nobody  can  skip  over  the  history 
into  the  pose  and  role  it  puts  them  in. 

Am  I  minute  enough  ?  You  charged  me  to  "  tell  every 
thing, —  especially  about  the  voyage,"  which  travel-stories  al 
ways  begin  with  pretty  graphically  and  never  keep  straight 
on  with. 

I  would  not  write  a  book  of  travels  for  all  the  world.  I  do 
not  mean  to  write  travels,  even  to  you.  I  put  down  my  "out 
ings  "  when  I  stayed  at  home ;  now  that  I  go  abroad  and  about, 
I  shall  very  likely  fall  back  mostly  into  my  abidings.  It  is  with 
larger  living  as  with  longer  living ;  it  only  sets  old  things  at  a 
farther  focus,  and  looks  keener  into  the  far  off  and  the  gone-by. 

Besides,  what  after  all  would  my  little  foot-tracks,  or  my  pen- 
tracks  about  them  amount  to,  except  that  they  were  mine.  You 
have  got  it  all  in  books,  over  and  over  again  ;  and  it  is  in  pict 
ures,  now,  better  than  in  books.  I  will  bring  you  back  photo 
graphs,  Rose,  and  we  will  talk  over  them  together ;  meanwhile 
you  shall  have  just  the  little  happenings  and  thinkings  that 
make  the  journey  mine.  If  people  only  told  just  what  was 
theirs  and  did  not  fall  into  the  technical,  inventorial  gabble 
which  makes  you  tired  and  want  to  shut  up  the  covers  ! 

I  have  sometimes  wondered  why  I  can  never  go  all  the  way 
with  them.  It  is  nice  at  the  first,  fresh  start;  but  afterward 


THE   LONG  SEA-LETTER:    IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.        41 

the  spring  all  fails  out  of  it.  The  first  pages  are  real,  are 
charming ;  then  comes  the  smatter  ;  strings  of  names  and  places 
hashed  up  together,  with  epithets  peppered  over,  —  a  mere 
warming  up  of  what  you  have  had  served  so  many  times  be 
fore,  without  an  additional  flavor.  A  few  pages  of  encyclopae 
dia  and  thesaurus  are  a  refreshment  after  it. 

I  think  it  is  because  they  put  down  the  things  they  have 
run  about  among,  instead  of  those  "  a  part  of  which  they  were." 
It  ought  to  be  a  record  lilfe  the  holy  Acts  Luke  wrote,  —  of 
"  that  which  their  eyes  have  seen  and  their  hands  have  handled, 
of  the  word  of  life."  For  the  word  of  life  is  abroad  in  the 
world  to-day,  for  them  who  "go  abroad"  to  find  it. 

The  best  motto  for  a  volume  of  travels  would  be,  like  that  of 
any  enterprise  based  only  on  real,  tangible,  safe  capital,  —  "  Lim 
ited."  But  "  Limited  "  to  the  things  of  day  to  day,  —  if  there 
is  much  life  in  them,  —  spreads  out  so !  I  must  beware  of  that, 
and  write  the  word  on  both  sides,  if  I  can. 

The  weather  was  changing  before  we  noticed  it.  We  met  an 
east  wind  before  we  got  down  to  the  Light,  and  fog  came  roll 
ing  up  from  the  Bay.  It  began  to  be  rough,  and  the  little  tug 
pitched  up  and  down. 

"  They  '11  have  a  genuine  touch  of  the  sea  before  they  get 
back,"  said  a  passenger.  One  of  the  gold-strapped  gentlemen 
was  passing  by. 

"  You  do  keep  some  of  it  on  board,  after  all ;  don't  you, 
Captain  K.  ? "  continued  the  speaker,  addressing  him,  debon 
airly,  and  buttoning  a  large  rough  coat  closer  about  his  throat. 

"  Yes !  Which  ?  "  Answered  out  of  the  hard,  authoritative 
face  a  quick  voice,  that  sounded  as  if  it  could  have  fun  in  it 
when  there  was  time. 

"  Nova  Zembla  weather." 

"  Never  sail  without  it.  Keep  it  for  the  passengers,  though. 
Don't  take  the  corks  out  till  we  get  rid  of  the  landsmen.  — 
Have  that  hawser  ready  for  the  tug ! "  he  shouted  over  the  rail, 
in  a  quite  changed  tone,  to  the  men  below.  And  he  was  off, 
forward,  on  his  rapid  business  march. 

The   tug  came,   with   dizzy   heaving   and    dipping    motion, 


42  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

alongside.  People  crowded  over  the  plankway  in  the  fast  de 
termining  rain,  happy  if  they  had  umbrellas.  We  had  not  be 
gun  to  feel  very  much  the  movement  of  the  large  steamer ;  but 
to  look  at  that  of  the  little  vessel  swaying  up  and  down,  and  to 
watch  the  swelling  of  the  waves,  was  growing  sensibly  perilous. 
We  were  glad  when  the  tug  was  loose,  and  bounded  away  from 
the  ship's  side ;  and  we  were  glad,  with  a  little  brief  and  futile 
gladness,  that  we  were  not  on  board  of  her. 

When  the  first  dinner-bell  soundeTl,  just  after  she  had  got  be 
yond  farewell  signals,  looks  and  questions  were  exchanged  with 
a  sudden  irresolute  timidity.  A  great  many  people  were  not 
hungry.  A  good  many  preferred  the  evils  they  had,  in  the 
drift  of  the  rain  under  the  dripping  awning,  to  those  they  knew 
not  of  below. 

Those  who  were  going  down  announced  it  with  a  marked 
jollity  of  manner,  as  who  should  say,  "  Certainly  ;  begin  as  you 
mean  to  go  on ;  we  dine  regularly,  of  course."  And  they 
walked  off  with  a  very  great  superiority,  italicized  by  the  air  of 
making  nothing  of  it.  Not  yet,  at  any  rate  ;  that  would  be  too 
absurd ;  we  were  scarcely  well  out  into  the  Bay. 

Edith  had  looked  a  little  pale,  a  few  minutes  before,  and  had 
risen  from  her  seat  and  moved  quickly  and  quietly  toward  the 
companion-way.  I  followed  her,  of  course. 

"  Are  you  —  wanting  anything,  dear  ?  "  I  would  not  say  the 
word  that  verifies  itself  so  easily  on  shipboard. 

"  No.  Don't  say  anything.  Don't  come  !  "  And  she  was 
so  peremptory,  dear  little  soul,  that  I  went  back,  feeling  dis 
tantly  conscious,  also,  that  I  had  n't  quite  the  strength  of  mind 
just  then  to  "  set  an  example  "  judiciously. 

"  You  will  be  sure  to  be  ill  if  you  don't  eat,"  said  Mrs.  Regis 
to  me.  "  A  little  bit  of  beef  is  the  best  thing,  and  they  have 
real  English  roasts  here.  You  had  better  come  with  me." 

"Emery  Ann?" — I  began  cautiously.  But  Emery  Ann's 
face  was  turned  aside,  and  the  "  pumpkin  "  vibrated  faintly,  but 
decidedly.  The  deck  steward  rushed  up.  "  Will  you  have 
anything  brought,  ma'am  —  miss  ?  "  he  asked,  glancing  with  a 
wise  generality  from  one  to  another.  I  suppose  he  could  read 
faces  and  the  backs  of  heads,  for  he  rushed  away  again  without 
an  answer. 


THE  LONG    SEA-LETTER:    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        43 

After  my  piece  of  beef,  nothing  happened,  that  I  know  of,  for 
half  an  hour.  I  am  not  sure,  exactly,  where  anybody  else  was 
during  that  time,  and  I  found  out,  —  or  I  do  on  reflection,  — 
the  depravity  of  my  nature ;  for  I  am  tolerably  certain  I  did  n't 
care.  I  know  I  had  a  book  in  my  hand,  and  a  lemon  on  the 
table  beside  me  ;  and  that  I  was  in  the  little  lower  ladies'  cabin, 
not  far  from  our  state-room  ;  and  that  I  did  not  allow  myself  to 
suppose  it  was  time  to  "  imagine  anything ; "  and  that  I  occu 
pied  myself  with  a  diligent  and  forcible  determination  that  I 
would  n't.  This  resolution  seemed  to  encounter  something  be 
tween  my  heart  and  my  throat,  which  it  had  been  summoned 
like  a  policeman  to  take  hold  of,  and  it  held  on,  for  its  own  life. 

All  at  once  an  evil  suggestion  came  to  me  that  in  my  state 
room  was  the  brandy-bottle  ;  that  I  had  very  absurdly  forgotten 
all  about  it ;  and  that  a  teaspoonful  after  dinner  (which  I  began 
to  remember  like  a  guilty  deed)  would  probably  act  as  a  "  pre- 
ventative."  I  recollect  a  few  steps  beyond  the  cabin  door ;  a 
blind  stagger  along  the  narrow  passage  as  the  ship  rolled ;  a 
plunge  into  the  little  encumbered  square  of  territory  that  we 
called  our  own  ;  and  a  vision  of  Edith's  pale  face,  with  a  queer, 
suffering  smile  upon  it,  as  she  lifted  it  toward  me  from  over  the 
wash-basin,  and  sank  back  upon  the  sofa. 

Emery  Ann  was  up  in  her -berth,  with  her  hood  on.  When 
I  asked  her,  in  a  pause  of  personal  relief,  if  anything  was  the 
matter,  she  replied,  very  much  in  her  throat  and  with  a  sepul 
chral  significance,  "I  should  like  —  to  go  —  into  a  dor  —  mant 
state ! " 

The  stewardess  came  in,  and  offered  services ;  she  said  it  was 
"  reely  very  rough,  and  most  of  the  ladies  was  sick  ; "  we  heard 
Madame,  my  wife,  in  awful  spasms  on  the  other  side  the  thin  par 
tition  ;  the  steward  came  round  and  lit  the  candles  in  the  three- 
cornered  glass  boxes  between  the  rooms  ;  the  rain,  and  the 
tramp,  and  the  voices  sounded  on  into  the  night,  above ;  we 
asked  each  other  no  more  questions,  but  suffered  manifest  des 
tiny  together  without  words.  But  I  parodied  Sir  John  Moore's 
burial  over  and  over  in  my  mind  as  I  lay  there,  and  tenderly 
gazed  at  poor  Edith's  head,  and  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow. 
How  long  could  we  endure  it  ?  And  there  were  to  be  ten  mor 
rows. 


44  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

I  thought  as  I  rolled  on  my  narrow  bed  and  crushed  down 
my  pitiless  pillow,  how  the  rattle  and  swash  would  keep  on 
overhead,  and  we  far  away  on  the  billow.  I  fell  into  a  feverish 
nap  at  last  and  began  again  where  I  had  left  off,  when  I  heard 
the  early  stir  on  board,  —  the  stewards  running  up  and  down 
the  staircase,  a  clatter  of  dishes,  and  voices  with  a  cheerful 
swagger  in  them  asking  about  wind  and  weather  and  the  way 
we  had  made  in  the  night.  "  Lightly  they  '11  laugh  that  our 
spirits  are  gone,  and  for  our  small  spunk  may  upbraid  us,"  I 
rehearsed,  in  a  helpless,  imbecile  way ;  but  little  we  '11  reck  "  if 
they  '11  leave  us  alone,  in  the  beds  where  our  folly  has  laid  us." 

I  had  just  weakly  finished  that  in  my  mind,  when  that  mar 
velous  woman,  Mrs.  Pride,  whom  nature,  constitution,  and 
choice  had  qualified  for  what  one  would  call  the  last  profession 
on  earth,  —  if  it  be  on  earth,  —  came  in  upon  her  morning 
round. 

I  looked  up  at  her  in  awe  and  wonder,  as  if  she  had  come  on 
wings.  There  she  stood,  serenely  poised,  with  her  comfortable 
bulk,  trig  in  buttoned  corsage,  linen  collar  and  frilled  cap,  while 
I  lay  collapsed  in  the  wreck  of  my  neat  yesterday's  toilet,  feel 
ing  that  as  to  ever  building  myself  up  again  into  a  visible  and 
conventional  woman,  I  might  as  well  try  to  build  a'  solar  sys 
tem. 

"  A  little  better,  ladies  ?     Will  you  have  breakfast  ?  " 

Edith  groaned. 

"  A  few  biscuits  ?     A  little  beef  tea  ?     An  orange  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  would  like  an  orange,"  said  the  dear  child,  faintly,  as 
if  making  the  first  blind  grasp  at  life  again. 

The  bedroom  steward  was  passing. 

"  Alick  !  "  called  Mrs.  Pride,  "  some  oranges  here,  —  No.  121, 
immediate." 

And  she  had  the  excellent  sense  to  say  no  more  about  it,  but 
to  depart  herself,  and  presently  fetch  back  a  plate  of  little 
"  Peek  and  Freans."  If  she  had  said  "  biscuit "  again,  I  could 
not  have  forgiven  her  ;  but  when  she  handed  me  the  crisp  little 
morsels,  I  looked  up  with  an  infantile  gratitude  and  took  one. 
It  was  a  reassurance  to  find  I  could  nibble,  and  swallow ;  and 
that  nature,  after  her  fierce  reversal,  seemed  timidly  inclined  to 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.        45 

return  to  first  methods,  and  try  whether  a  soul  might  not  eat, 
and  yet  not  surely  die. 

Then  we  hailed  each  other  across  the  gulfs  of  misery  that 
had  separated  us. 

"  Edie  !  are  you  really  a  little  better  ?  "  I  enunciated  slowly. 

"  Yes,  auntie.  I  think  so.  But  how  —  shall  we  —  ever  — 
get  out  of  this  ?  " 

"  Emery  Ann ! " 

"  Present ! "  answered  a  voice  from  the  upper  berth,  feebly. 
"  But  I  can't  put  up  my  hand." 

I  wondered  whether  she  were  dreaming  herself  back  thirty 
years,  into  the  district  school  at  Shetffean.  In  last  extremities 
we  do  go  back  to  such  far  first  things. 

"  Are  you  awake  ?  " 

"  I  presume  so." 

u  Have  you  got  some  "  — 

"  Don't  say  it.  Yes,  I  have.  It  can't -be  talked  about."  And 
she  crunched,  gently,  but  I  am  sure  that  it  was  with  all  her 
force,  to  let  me  know. 

We  smoothed  ourselves  a  little,  as  we  were ;  and  there  we 
remained. 

All  day  long  we  listened  to  the  footfalls  and  the  voices ;  the 
hauling  of  ropes ;  the  great  pulse  of  the  screw  ;  the  calls  of  the 
officers,  the  whistle  of  the  boatswain,  the  yo-hoi's  of  the  crew ; 
to  sound  of  inquiry,  or  petition,  or  faint  misery,  from  the  open 
state-rooms  ;  to  the  frequent  and  resonant  anguish  of  Madame, 
my  wife.  Night  crept  on  again,  and  the  little  glass  boxes  were 
illuminated ;  the  bedroom  steward  came  in  and  put  a  front-piece 
to  the  sofa,  and  brought  extra  pillows ;  and  Mrs.  Pride  tucked 
Edith  up  more  comfortably.  And  that  second  night  there  was 
leso  rolling,  and  we  really  slept. 

Shall  we  ever  forget  the  waking,  that  third  bright  morning, 
when  the  little  round  port-hole  window  was  all  blue  with  a 
clear  day,  and  the  vessel  lay  almost  quietly  on  a  calm  sea,  and 
sailors'  voices  were  singing  with  a  strange,  wild  thrill  of  melody, 
a  kind  of  song-jargon  to  which  at  every  other  line  the  burden 
^as,  —  "  Yea-hey  !  Roll  the  man  down  ! "  ? 


46  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

I  saw  a  pair  of  boots  descending  in  air  before  me,  from  above. 
"  I  wonder  if  they  'd  roll  a  woman  up  ?"  said  Emery  Ann,  with 
resurrection  in  her  tone.  "  For  I  'm  going  on  deck  ! " 

"  Emery  Ann ! "  said  Edith,  with  a  little  gurgle  of  a  laugh, 
as  if  she  had  almost  forgotten  how,  "you  would  put  courage 
into  a  caterpillar  ! " 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  say  anything  till  I  could,"  answered  the 
woman  whose  name  is  Tudor,  and  who  has  a  far-away  blood- 
royal  in  her,  I  doubt  not. 

We  had  all  lain  listening,  and  looking,  in  the  still  rapture  of 
a  painless  waking,  and  the  sweeping  in  upon  us  of  a  new  breath 
of  hope,  until  we  brimmed" over  in  cheerful  speech. 

"It  must  be  a  glorious  morning!  If  there  could  be, — how  long 
have  we  been  here  ? — eight  days  more  of  woather  like  this  !  " 

I  forgot,  all  at  once,  how  bitterly  I  had  thought  of  the  ten 
morrows. 

Mrs.  Pride  appeared  as  I  spoke  ;  rubbing  her  hands  compla 
cently,  as  if  she  had  made  the  morning ;  at  least,  as  if  it  had 
been  made  on  board.  I  noticed  afterward  the  same  sort  of  in 
nocent  assumption  in  the  other  ship's  people,  and  in  the  passen 
gers,  exchanging  congratulations. 

My  dear  Rose !  it  was  all  ours ! 

I  have  talked  before  about  "  being  in  the  middles;"  but — • 
in  the  middle  of  this  great,  round,  blue,  heaving,  sparkling  sea 
—  of  this  over-spanning  hemisphere  of  azure  light !  With  the 
wind  all  in  our  sails,  the  fragrance  in  our  nostrils,  the  greatness 
and  freedom  in  our  pulses  as  we  bounded  up  and  down,  —  the 
whole  space,  —  the  whole  watery  planet  —  for  where  were  the 
continents  ?  our  own  ! 

After  Jhe  sea-wretchedness,  the  sea-ecstacy  !  Truly,  the  latter 
end  of  Job  was  blessed  beyond  his  beginning ! 

Mrs.  Pride  helped  us  up.  We  shook  and  we  smoothed  ;  we 
bathed,  and  brushed,  and  pinned,  ourselves  and  each  other,  the 
little  that  we  could  ;  during  the  process,  we  overflowed  no  more 
in  glee ;  it  was  a  struggle. 

But  we  left  that  state-room.  With  the  assistance  of  Alick 
and  Mrs.  Pride,  and  a  strange  gentleman  with  the  officer's 
band,  into  whose  arms  I  fell  as  I  reached  the  staircase,  and  who 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER:    IN  MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        47 

lifted  me  kindly  along  in  my  faint  bewilderment  to  the  deck, 
and  put  me  into  a  chair,  —  I  discovered  afterwards  that  he  was 
the  doctor, —  we  were  translated  from  grief  to  glory  ;  and  that 
which  I  have  just  spoken  of  was  what  we  found  ourselves  in 
the  midst  of,  when  our  senses  gathered  themselves  again,  and 
we  lay  among  our  wraps  with  our  faces  heavenward, — for 
heaven  was  everywhere,  —  as  we  could  have  lain  forever. 

After  the  first  transport  of  our  own  coming  up  out  of  the 
catacombs  began  to  subside  into  quieted  content,  we  looked 
round  to  see  who  else  had  risen  among  the  blessed. 

Mrs.  Regis  was  there,  —  had  she  ever  been  entombed  ?  walk 
ing  the  deck  with  Captain  K ,  who  came  over  with  her  to 

us,  presently. 

"  Do  you  know  what  she  says?"  he  demanded,  after  the  intro 
duction,  with  his  off-duty,  holiday  air.  "  She  wishes  there  were 
teu-theousand  miles  between  Boston  Light  and  Fastnet  Rock." 

"  I  dare  say  there  are,"  I  replied  placidly ;  "  for  I  have  n't 
the  least  idea  where  Fastnet  Rock  is." 

"  Not  know  that !  What  in  the  world  are  you  going  out  for 
to  see  ?  It 's  on  the  top  of  the  Tower  of  London,  to  be  sure ; 
the  greatest  -eeure-iosity  in  Europe  !  "  And  he  wheeled  Mrs. 
Regis  round,  laughing,  and  they  walked  forward  again. 

Some  people  think  Captain  K is  too  ready  with  his  non 
sense  ;  but  I  never  saw  a  man  more  judicious  in  applying  it,  or 
more  kindly  quick  in  perceiving  where  a  little  would  do  good. 
The  same  quickness  of  sight  and  action  goes  into  his  work  as  a 
commander.  I  have  known  him  stop  in  the  middle  of  a  joke, 
to  walk  suddenly  away  with  that  other  face  of  authority  shut 
ting  instantly  over  his  fun,  give  a  rapid  order,  and  come  back, 
relaxing  his  features  as  with  a  sweep  of  sunshine,  and  finish  the 
absurdity  from  where  he  left  it  off.  He  noticed  the  little  chil 
dren  ;  he  never  let  an  invalid  be  neglected ;  he  gave  up  his  own 
room  to  a  very  sick  lady,  who  had  an  undesirable  state-room ;  and 
I  think  he  keeps  his  nonsense  as  they  do  champagne  cider,  for 
remedy  and  resource  ;  he  establishes  a  way  with  it  that  I  be 
lieve  he  knows  would  stand  him  in  stead  in  a  time  of  real,  anxious 
necessity.  That  is  my  insight  of  Captain  K ;  but  many 


48  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

people  measure  him  only  a  half  line  deep,  and  find  fault  that 
there  is  nothing  profound  in  him. 

We  hardly  remembered  whether  we  had  eaten  or  not,  —  we 
were  taking  in  such  direct  vitality  from  sky  and  sea ;  but  they 
brought  us  some  beef-tea,  and  it  tasted  delicious.  They  make 
wonderful  beef-tea  on  board  the  Nova  Zembla. 

Then  we  saw  ladies  sipping  lemonade,  and  we  called  for 
some.  Food  and  drink  began  upon  primal  conditions,  and  had 
the  very  joy  of  life  in  them.  We  remembered  that  we  could 
have  dinner  on  deck ;  that  we  need  not  go  down  out  of  that 
upper  radiance  all  the  day  long,  —  until  the  day  went ;  that  we 
should  see  the  whole,  round,  vast  circle  of  the  sunset  glory,  and 
the  perfect  hemisphere  of  stars.  We  did  not  care  how  many 
thousand  miles  we  had  to  go  like  that. 

Why,  I  think  the  Sea  is  the  greatest  and  the  best  of  it ! 

Margaret  Regis  was  wrapped  up  a  little  way  off;  we  nodded 
and  smiled  at  each  other,  but  did  not  dream,  yet,  of  getting 
nearer.  Mrs.  Regis's  promenade  did  not  continue  long ;  she 
understood  the  brief  leisure  of  the  Captain,  and  she  paused  and 
resumed  her  own  seat  by  her  step-daughter's  side,  after  a  few 
more  turns,  in  time  not  to  be  deposited. 

A  lady  sat  near  them  whom  I  chose  at  once,  from  among  all 
those  strangers  about  me,  as  one  whom  I  should  like  to  come 
to  know  better. 

She  was  of  my  own  age,  or  more  ;  she  wore  a  little  black  silk 
hood,  under  which  hair  of  a  singular  silvered  gold  came  out  in 
gentle  waves,  fretted  into  curliness  by  the  sea  wind.  She  had  a 
face  of  beautiful  peace  ;  one  of  those  faces  whose  look  is  like  a 
listening  to  pleasant  whispers.  I  wondered  if  it  were  always 
so,  or  whether  it  was  the  just  coming  up,  as  it  was  with  me.  I 
do  not  mean  that  my  own  face  shone  ;  I  don't  suppose  it  could, 
like  that,  but  it  was  the  self-same  shining  that  I  felt  upon  my 
heart. 

She  seemed  to  have  a  party  with  her,  or  to  have  helped  make 
one  up.  A  young  lady,  with  lovely  dark  eyes,  who  held  a  little 
girl  upon  her  lap ;  a  tall,  noble-looking  man,  of  ripe  middle 
age,  accompanied  by  a  bright,  handsome  boy,  who  paused  now 


THE  LONG   SEA-LETTEE:    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.         49 

and  then  in  his  walk  to  lean  over  them  and  speak  a  few  pleasant 
words  (I  heard  him  call  the  young  lady  "  Faith,"  and  the  boy 
said  "  Mamma ") ;  another  gentleman  who  drew  a  camp-stool 
near  while  I  was  looking,  and  whom  I  had  heard  addressed  as 
"  General."  One  of  the  young  generals,  doubtless,  made  by  the 
war,  —  it  occurred  to  me  to  think ;  for  he  could  not  be  many 
years  beyond  thirty.  Very  handsome  ;  I  have  hardly  ever  seen 
a  finer  face,  or  one  with  more  strength  in  it. 

A  few  sentences  that  I  caught  showed  me  that  they  had 
known  each  other  before,  but  had  found  each  other  out  as  fel 
low  passengers  since  they  came  on  board. 

"  The  drift  of  life  is  a  wonderful  thing,  —  stranger  even  than 
ocean  currents,"  said  the  lady  with  the  silver  shine  in  the  golden 
hair.  "  I  never  came  on  board  a  steamship,  —  and  I  have 
crossed  several  times,  —  that  it  was  not  more  or  less  singularly 
exemplified.  You  and  I,  Mrs.  Armstrong,  have  not  met  before 
since  we  worked  together  and  grew  to  be  friends,  in  the  Sani 
tary  Commission  ;  and  General  Rushleigh  —  but  then  he  has 
been  nearly  everywhere  !  " 

"  So  it  is  not  strange,  perhaps,  that  I  should  be  here.  Cer 
tainly  it  is  one  of  the  very  pleasant  things  !  " 

"  Very  certainly,"  rejoined  the  lady,  with  a  smile  that  turned 
the  application  back ;  but  I  could  see  by  a  kind  of  rare  simple- 
ness  in  General  Rushleigh's  face,  that  he  had  only  spoken  pre 
cisely  as  he  felt ;  and  that  there  was  no  mere  compliment  in  his 
word  to  make  him  take  heed,  even  now,  of  its  doubleness. 

I  noticed  Mrs.  Regis  turn  her  head  slightly,  as  the  name  of 
General  Rushleigh  had  been  mentioned.  But  he  sat  with  his 
back  toward  her  at  the  moment.  She  knew  him,  very  likely,  as 
she  seemed  to  know  half  the  world.  I  had  seen  her  talking 
with  the  Lady  of  Peace  —  as  I  christened  my  elderly  friend 
till  I  should  know  her  worldly  appellation  — just  before  he  had 
come  up ;  and  then  she  had  withdrawn  into  her  rugs  and  had 
taken  up  her  book.  There  was  no  immediate  and  graceful  way 
of  coming  out  again  at  once,  and  Mrs.  Regis  never  did  anything 
that  had  not  graceful  relation.  But  I  knew  from  that  one  little 
half  turn  of  her  head  that  she  would  "  take  up  her  connection," 
first  or  last,  among  these  others,  and  that  through  her,  perhaps, 
4 


50  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

during  the  voyage,  our  two  parties  might  moie  or  less  approach. 
I  might  come  to  know  my  Lady  of  Peace,  whose  face  had  so 
much  in  it  for  me.  I  never  thought  —  why  was  I  of  so  little 
faith  as  not  to  think  ?  —  how  sure,  and  near,  and  even  very  soon, 
our  knowledge  was  to  be,  and  what  messages  and  gifts  she  had 
for  me  ! 

I  fell  a-questioning,  faithlessly.  I  was  certain  of  these  faces, 
these  tones ;  of  the  spirit  that  I  felt  by  intuition,  —  yes,  by 
kinship  (for  it  is  not  praise  of  one's  self  to  say  that  one  knows 
her  own  needs,  and  what  natures  hold  the  answers  and  the 
helps),  to  be  in,  and  moving  between  these  people.  The  Spirit 
that  we  pray  daily  to  be  kept  in,  all  the  day  long ;  near  to  each 
other  in  the  Blessed  Light,  —  near  to  the  Light  itself,  that  we 
know  by  the  soul's  gladness.  "  To  walk  before  Thee  in  the 
land  of  the  living."  I  think  that  asking  asks  all  heaven,  and  its 
instant  beginning. 

I  knew  it  by  the  unspoken  signs,  and  by  little  words  I  heard 
that  I  have  not  written  down. 

Why  was  I  going  to  Europe  with  Mrs.  Regis  ?  Why  were 
we  to  stand  together  before  the  high  presence  of  white  Alps, 
and  in  the  awfulness  of  mountain  gorges  ?  Would  there  be, 
anywhere,  a  common  language  for  us,  syllabled  or  "nnsyllabled,  in 
which  we  could  truly  speak  to  one  another  ?  What  identical 
word  was  coming  to  us,  at  this  moment,  from  this  great  sur 
rounding  of  the  sea  and  air,  this  clear  antiphony  of  the  two 
blue  deeps  ? 

And  we  should  step  on  shore  from  the  same  deck  with  such 
as  these,  to  go  our  several  ways.  It  almost  seemed  to  me,  in  my 
sudden  bitterness,  as  if  it  would  be  the  parting  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left. 

I  felt  as  if  a  whole,  large  life  were  spoiled,  perhaps,  by  a  mis 
take  that  I  had  made  ;  a  shadow  fell  upon  me  of  what  married 
pairs  may  feel  sometimes,  when  the  most  terrible  of  all  human 
misgivings  rushes  down  upon  their  hearts  with  a  darkness. 

I  tell  you  I  was  faithless,  and  unjust ;  was  not  the  Light 
shining  on  us  all  ?  We  are  only  to  get  close  enough,  —  close 
to  where  the  Light  gets,  —  to  each  other.  But  it  is  so  much 
readier,  so  much  more  blessedly  inevitable,  with  some  ! 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:    IN  MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        51 

Had  I  turned  away  from  any  leading,  or  taken  any  willful  way 
of  my  own,  that  I  found  myself  here  ?  I  had  not  started  for 
'Europe  without  much  weighing  and  thinking.  It  had  not  been 
easy  to  leave  the  dear  old  grooves  of  wont  and  duty,  the  little 
plain  signals  for  every-day  work  that  I  was  happy  in  ;  the  places 
full  of  sweet  sacredness  that  held  me  in  their  own  inner  atmos 
phere  ;  to  come  out  fi*om  all  into  a  strange  holiday  which  I 
almost  began  to  fear  and  shrink  from  already,  as  if  I  should  get 
adrift  in  it  from  my  dear,  best  anchorage,  and  never  find  and 
hold  it  again  as  I  had  held  it.  Were  there  things  in  me  — 
foolishnesses,  worldlinesses  —  that  had  even  already  made  their 
ill  response  to  something  like  themselves  outside  of  me,  and  be 
wildered  me  out  of  my  simple,  safe  identity  ?  In  the  midst  of 
the  real  joy  of  the  morning,  there  were  unrealities  that  I  had 
caught  myself  troubling  about.  Perhaps  —  I  don't  know  —  I 
may  confess  them  presently. 

I  took  hold  of  the  only  line  that  ever  leads  me  back  from  the 
labyrinths  of  distrust  and  self-blame. 

I  said,  —  Surely  it  was  right  that  I  should  do  this  very  best 
thing  for  my  dear  and  faithful  Emery  Ann  ;  the  thing  that  she 
could  only  get  through  me.  I  did  not  think,  now,  that  it  had 
been  too  much,  —  uncalled  for  ;  that  a  summer  down  in  Maine 
would  have  done  as  well.  I  knew  what  that  would  have  been. 
The  same  old  toils,  for  some  one  else ;  she  would  "  help," 
wherever  she  was.  I  knew  I  did  it  to  give  her  a  great,  free 
piece  of  the  great,  free  world,  that  she  had  as  good  a  right  to  as 
anybody,  and  that  would  fit  on  to  her  beginnings  which  had  all 
been  so  real,  better,  perhaps,  than  if  they  had  been  the  unlived 
beginnings  of  books  and  technical  culture. 

I  said,  that  it  had  been  surely  right,  again,  for  me  to  take 
Edith,  and  mother  her  for  Gertrude.  And  these  things,  follow 
ing  each  other,  had  put  me  with  Mrs.  Regis,  of  all  the  other 
possible  companions  in  the  world. 

Then  it  was  right.  I  would  wait  and  see.  I  got  back  to 
my  faith  by  following  back  my  leading.  I  may  have  as  much 
errand  with  these  people,  —  with  Margaret  and  her  step-mother, 
who  at  first  would  not  seem  to  need  me  at  all,  or  I  them,  —  as 
ever  I  had  with  Seelie  Rubb,  or  the  Sunday  strays,  or  the 


52  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

Shreves.     It  was  a  new  leaf.     I  must  turn  it  over,  and  spell  as 
the  letters  come. 

But  the  silliness,  Rose,  that  had  come  over  me  in  little  whiffs, 
even  at  my  eight-and-forty  years!  The  little,  petty,  self-silli 
ness  !  Shall  I  pretend  to  sound  and  interpret  others,  and  not 
sound  and  confess  myself?  * 

It  had  always  been  so  easy,  hitherto,  to  be  plain  Patience 
Strong.  Growing  old,  never  having  been  much  to  anybody, 
except  to  the  little  mother  who  had  been  growing  old  —  who 
was  now  heavenly  young  —  before  me.  Never  having  been 
beautiful,  or  gay,  or  charming;  only  a  little  kind  and  useful 
here  and  there ;  never  left  alone,  or  dreary,  because  put  in  such 
safe,  simple  relations,  where  small  kindnesses  and  uses  made 
friends.  Was  this  just  why  I  was  put  out  here  suddenly,  to  find 
that  even  at  forty-eight  years  old  I  could  wish  that  there  were 
something  portable  about  me,  —  some  brightness,  some  attrac 
tion,  something  left  of  youth,  even,  that  would  express  me  as  I 
felt  myself  inside,  and  draw  to  me  a  little  of  that  which  so  many 
others  seemed  to  have  as  of  course,  —  a  mere  part  of  natural 
living  ? 

I  had  not  known,  before,  my  solitariness  in  the  world.  I  had 
not  understood,  years  ago,  the  sudden,  little  tender  pity  that 
came,  sometimes,  in  mother's  look  at  me.  I  knew  what  she 
thought  of  now ;  it  came  into  my  own  look  at  myself.  Or  was 
it  her  gentle,  wistful  watching  of  me  still  ? 

Sometimes,  Rose,  I  get  tired  of  wearing  this  homely  old  self. 
I  would  like  to  carry  some  sign  of  the  world-wide  beauty  that  I 
never  did  carry.  I  would  like  to  be  in  pure,  fresh,  outward  har 
mony  with  the  lovely  morning;  a  human  piece  of  it;  as  these 
girls,  whom  I  love  so  in  their  freshness,  seem  to  be. 

I  said  to  Emery  Ann,  once,  that  day:  u  How  nice  it  is  to 
belong  to  it.  To  have  it  in  your  face,  and  your  hair,  and  your 
eyes,  and  your  smile  !  " 

She  knew  what  I  meant.  Some  bright  young  things  had 
just  gone  by,  the  wind  blowing  color  upon  their  cheeks,  and  the 
light  playing  with  their  loosened  locks  ;  and  somebody  near  had 
said :  "  It  can't  toss  them  amiss  ;  it  is  we  old  ones  must  keep 
tidy!" 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      53 

"  Good  looks  are  a  snare,"  said  Emery  Ann ;  "  especially  to 
them  that  have  n't  got  'em." 

I  laughed  with  amused  apprehension  ;  Emery  Ann  thought  it 
was  at  her  contradiction.  So  she  went  on,  as  her  way  is,  into 
more  contradiction,  and  involution  of  phrase  and  grammar,  say 
ing  the  same  thing. 

"  'T  is  so.  It  don't  make  any  difference  what  kind  you  've 
got,  or  whether  you  have  n't  got  any ;  they  take  your  mind  up 
exactly  the  same ;  more,  finally.  It 's  the  tidiness  that 's  the 
bother ;  you  can't,  half  the  time ;  it 's  the  tidiness  that  gets 
away  from  you,  because  there  is  n't  enough  to  keep  tidy  with. 
I  'd  just  as  lief  be  old,  as  not ;  I  'd  as  soon  be  sixty  as  forty  ;  but 
I  do  grudge  coming  to  pieces  in  spots  ! " 

Even  Emery  Ann  !  Well,  I  did  not  laugh  this  time.  It  is 
in  us  all, —  the  beauty  of  being,  and  living,  and  having,  —  the 
striving  after  "  tidiness "  that  is  perfect  fitness,  —  which  we 
never  attain  to,  or  which  is  just  shaped  out  to  be  taken  away. 

Did  I  say  that  to  myself?  Or  did  something  put  the  thought 
so  to  remind  me  ? 

"  Shaped  out  to  be  taken  away." 

The  words  were  drawn,  by  the  truth  of  things,  to  a  real,  def 
inite  illustration.  I  remembered  some  sentences  of  Ruskin's 
that  had  been  curiously  beautiful  to  me,  just  from  the  fact  they 
told ;  and  now  the  fact  interpreted  itself.  He  explains  to  us 
how  one  of  the  ideas  of  architecture  grew ;  from  observing  the 
outline  left,  when  the  rose  or  the  trefoil,  or  whatever  was  first 
traced  for  carving,  had  been  cut  and  taken  away.  That  which 
was  left  was  as  beautiful  as  the  central  design ;  to  appropriate 
Emery  Ann's  word,  which  holds,  that  way,  a  great  gospel, — 
"  more,  finally  !  " 

So  God  shapes  the  flower  of  beauty  in  us,  and  seems  perhaps 
only  to  reveal  its  glory  by  a  taking  away,  —  withdrawing  his 
thoughts  out  of  the  heart  of  our  living.  But  He  sees  how 
fair  in  the  life  stands  the  outline  that  is  left ;  how  the  tender 
curves  bend  and  cling  about  an  emptiness,  and  declare  in  them 
selves  a  wonderful,  essential  grace.  He  makes  that  which  re 
mains  by  the  same  stroke  which  separates  and  removes ;  the 
rose  is  always  in  the  midst,  —  a  rose  of  heaven  seen  through 


54  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

the  arches  where  its  place  was ;  and  so  He  chisels  and  thins 
and  glorifies  us,  until  in  the  immortal  aspects  in  which  we  shall 
stand  before  Him,  only  so  much  of  the  mere  form  of  being  shall 
remain  as  shall  make  it  possible  for  us  to  hold  these  thoughts  of 
his  with  which  He  has  been,  by  depriving,  filling  us. 

Emery  Ann  had  not  read  Ruskin,  and  I  could  not  tell  her  a 
long  story  out  of  a  book  just  then.  I  saved  it  up  for  another 
time. 

But  she  sat  and  looked  at  the  waves,  with  their  crisp,  white, 
flashing  tops.  "  Even  the  water  is  touched  off  with  bright  little 
curls,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  ;  "  and  it  comes,  and  it  goes,  and  nothing 
stays.  But  nothing  is  lost,  and .  every  thing  is  beautiful  in  its 
season." 

"  Well,  —  I  guess  we  can  stand  it,  if  He  can." 

She  spoke  softly,  and  I  knew  she  meant  just  the  same  thing 
as  if  she  had  said,  "  "We  can  wait  —  with  God." 

The  lady  with  the  gray-gold  hair  had  a  book  in  her  lap,  and 
when  I  looked  over  at  her  again  she  had  taken  it  up,  and  was 
reading  bits,  and  then  looking  off  from  it,  thinking.  She  said 
something  about  it  presently,  —  I  did  not  quite  catch  what,  — 
to  Mrs.  Armstrong. 

"  I  do  not  read  these  modern  essays  much,  or  the  discussions 
at  all,"  said  the  clear,  peculiarly  feminine  voice  of  the  younger 
woman.  "  They  tire  me  so.  It  seems  so  needless,  when  we 
have  all  the  best  things  sure  ;  whatever  little  dusts  they  may 
raise  with  their  digging  among  the  atoms." 

"I  read  them,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  am  glad  of  them.  They 
give  me  keys  the  writers  will  not  unlock  with.  How  strange  it 
is  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  put  God's  alphabet  together 
and  see  it  spell  his  word !  " 

A  third  gentleman  who  had  walked  up  at  the  moment  with 
Mr.  Armstrong,  stood  by  her  as  she  spoke,  and  caught  the 
saying. 

"  They  are  very  honest,  Miss  Euphrasia.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 
They  would  be  glad  to  see.  They  stand  reverently  in  their 
blindness,  before  closed  doors.  Perhaps  when  they  do  find  a  way 
forward,  it  may  lead  farther  on  than  men  have  ever  gone  before." 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      55 

"  But  —  if  they  were  not  blind  !  The  Door  that  is  opened, 
that  they  do  not  see  !  " 

"  Are  there  not  more  doors  than  one  ?  Are  they  not  all  of 
the  same,  —  Divine,  every  one,  if  any  ?  Why  should  they  not 
go  their  way,  to  open  more  entrances  ?  " 

"  Ho  v  can  they  go  without  the  light  ?  Is  it  not  the  Mar 
riage,  —  of  sign  and  life,  of  matter  and  spirit,  —  to  which  the 
five  wise  entered  in,  and  the  five  foolish  were  stayed  from  in  the 
outer  darkness  ?  " 

"  Who  shall  dare  to  sentence  wise  or  foolish,  in  that  which 
none  have  wholly  seen  ?  " 

"  I  am  only  sure  of  one  thing,"  said  Faith  Armstrong's  gentle 
voice.  "  Whether  it  is  in  myself,  or  whether  it  touches  me  from 
above  myself,  I  know  what  I  must  believe,  —  what  I  cannot  do 
without." 

"  Pardon  me  ;  but  is  that  argument  ?  " 

"  Is  n't  it  as  good  argument  as  their's  ?  Is  n't  it  a  true  reach 
ing,  —  a  natural  selection  ?  Why  not  a  law  and  a  growth  that 
proves  itself,  as  much  as  animal  development  ?  " 

"  And  the  best  belief,"  said  General  Rushleigh,  —  "  Chris 
tianity  ;  the  '  survival  of  the  fittest.'  Is  that  anything  different 
from  the  fulfillment  of  the  true,  —  the  coming  of  the  Highest  ? 
I  wonder  if  they  thought  of  the  etymology,"  he  continued, 
"  when  they  hit  upon  that  phrase ;  or  whether  they  spoke  wiser 
than  they  knew?  '  Fitt,' — a  song,  —  a  harmony;  'Fait,'  —  a 
a  fact,  —  a  truth  ?  " 

Mrs.  Armstrong  smiled  so  softly,  so  brightly,  upon  the 
speaker  !  And  her  husband,  standing  close  by,  silent,  —  leaving 
the  talk  to  these  women  and  their  insights,  —  smiled  upon  her. 

"  You  lay  your  hand  upon  the  keystone  of  the  arch,"  said 
Miss  Euphrasia.  "  The  angel  that  stood  with  one  foot  upon  the 
sea  and  one  upon  the  land,  was  the  living  meaning  of  the  Loi-d, 
joining  the  tangible  with  the  intangible.  If  they  would  only 
mind,  —  if  they  would  only  get  at  the  secret,  —  that  they  are 
related  !  That  they  cannot  push  a  research  into  one  without 
an  instant  flowing  up  of  the  other !  That  the  very  types  they  are 
finding  are  the  types  God  talks  by  to  tell  us  all !  That  there  is  a 
natural,  because  there  is  a  spiritual ;  and  that  the  sign,  the  out- 


56  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

come  of  the  one  is  the  truth,  the  inmost,  of  the  other  !  Men  have 
worked  two  ways,  —  in  the  world  of  things  and  the  world  of 
spirit,  —  as  if  against  each  other ;  but  there  will  come  a  last 
stroke,  and  it  seems  as  if  it  were  very  near,  when  they  shall  find 
themselves  face  to  face,  and  see  that  it  is  all  one! " 

"  They  may  '  come  to  know,  even  in  this  their  day,' "  said 
General  Rushleigh. 

Mrs.  Armstrong  finished  it.  "  '  The  things  that  belong  to 
their  peace.''  Is  n't  that  just  the  relation,  Miss  Euphrasia  ?  " 

Her  name,  then,  was  "  Euphrasia  ?  " 

Does  not  that  mean,  from  the  Greek  syllables,  something  like 
"  good  words  ?  "  I  don't  know,  except  from  the  little  prefix,  as 
in  "  eulogy,"  "  euphony,"  and  the  rest ;  and  from  the  "  phrasis." 
"When  I  get  at  "  Worcester  "  again,  I  will  look  it  out.  You  know 
I  believe  in  christenings  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  I  remember  the  little 
plant,  "  eyebright,"  whose  botanical  name  is  "  euphrasia."  It 
was  believed  to  clear  the  sight;  and  from  what  can  the  good 
words  come,  but  from  the  clear  seeing?  From  what  else  do 
they  come,  on  the  lips  of  this  sweet  Lady  of  Peace  ? 

We  sat  late  on  deck.  We  dreaded  to  go  down  into  the 
burrow.  Edith  said  "  we  should  go  right  back  into  yesterday." 
I  did  not  want  to  bury  Sir  John  Moore  any  more.  So  we  saw 
the  stars  come  out,  and  the  moon  rise ;  we  saw  a  great  ocean 
space  melt  into  silver  under  it.  The  captain  had  on  his  watch- 
coat,  and  his  Scotch  cap,  and  walked  up  and  down  with  his  soul 
in  his  ship,  and  no  word  any  more  for  anybody.  Only  two  or 
three  beside  ourselves  lingered ;  and  we  at  last  outstayed  them 
all. 

Do  you  know  how  the  moon  seems  to  move  along  with  us 
overhead,  when  we  travel  upon  the  land  ?  Fields,  and  trees, 
and  houses  glide  by  and  are  gone  ;  they  are  things  on  the  earth  ; 
the  things  set  in  the  heaven  are  always  with  us.  At  sea,  there 
are  only  the  things  in  the  heaven  to  measure  by ;  you  seem  to 
swing  up  and  down  in  the  same  centre  of  wide  waters,  —  to 
hang  in  the  midst  of  a  forever  which  is  forever  Now. 

And  the  moon  keeps  with  us,  closer,  also,  night  by  night,  be 
cause  we  sail  eastward,  and  move  always  to  meet  her  rising. 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:   IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      57 

She  is  perhaps  half  an  hour  later  each  evening,  instead  of  an 
hour,  as  at  home.  We  change  our  time  twenty-five  minutes 
daily  ;  we  go  back  into  time,  and  live  that  much  over.  Has  not 
that,  also,  to  do  with  the  spiritual  sun-rising,  and  the  "  garden  of 
the  Lord  eastward  in  Eden  ?  "  The  more  we  move  toward  Him, 
the  more  our  dear  past  shall  live  to  us,  —  shall  be  redeemed  out 
of  the  abyss  ?  Shall  live  to  be  redeemed,  some  of  it,  that  is  not 
dear,  nor  tolerable  now  ;  that  we  wish  were  different ;  that  we 
would  deny  and  change,  in  our  better  growth  and  being,  if  we 
could  stand  in  its  moments  as  we  are. 

I  think  if  a  soul  that  has  repented  and  turned  away,  were  set 
back  beside  its  own  old  wrong,  it  would  feel  blessedly  its  own 
redemption  and  forgiven-ness,  by  the  utter  unbelonging,  and 
the  gracious  sorrow  that  would  come  upon  it,  as  if  it  saw  that 
some  one  dear  to  it  had  been  misled.  We  may  stand,  our  own 
pardoning  or  condemning  angels,  in  that  past  which  shall  be  pres 
ent.  Be  that  as  it  may,  there  will  be  one  at  whose  shining  feet 
we  can  lay  it  all  down  with  its  tears,  and  who  will  speak  the 
"  Go  in  peace  "  we  wait  for. 

Will  there  not  be  many  waiting  so  ?  Will  any  stand  up, 
sure  and  strong  at  once,  among  the  sinless  ?  Will  any  have  to 
shrink  away  before  condemning  fellow-eyes,  when  Christ  that 
died  and  is  risen  again,  sitteth  upon  that  throne  of  his  glory, 
clothed  in  a  garment  down  to  the  foot,  that  the  lowliest  may 
touch  the  hem  of,  —  girt  around  the  breasts  with  his  golden 
girdle,  the  faithfulness  and  righteousness  that  search  out  all  and 
make  all  right, — his  Face  like  the  sun,  and  his  voice  like  the 
eound  of  many  cleansing  waters  ?  — 

In  His  Glory  !  When  the  spheres 

Lighten  with  that  wondrous  blaze, 
How  shall  all  my  sins  and  fears 

Meet  thy  dawning,  Day  of  Days  ? 

"Nothing  hid !  "     No  thought  so  mean 

That  to  darkness  it  may  creep ; 
Very  darkness  shall  be  seen, 
Very  death  to  life  shall  leap. 

Nothing  deep,  or  far,  or  old  ; 

Nothing  left,  in  years  behind ; 
All  the  secret  self  unrolled  : 

Light  of  God !  I  would  be  blind ! 


58  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Only  I  shall  see  a  Face, 

In  the  glory  lifted  up  ; 
And  a  Hand  —  the  Hand  of  Grace 

Whose  sweet  mercy  held  the  Cup. 

And  a  Voice,  I  think,  -will  speak, 

Asking  of  each  sin-defiled, 
Whom  his  saving  came  to  seek, 

As  a  mother  asks  her  child  : 

"  Wert  thou  sorry  ?  " 

"  Yea,  dear  Christ, 
Sick  and  sorry  I  have  been ; 
Wearily  thy  ways  have  missed : 
Wash  my  feet,  and  lead  me  in ! 

"  Though  in  this  clear  light  of  thine, 
Sin  and  sore  must  stand  revealed, 
Though  no  stainless  health  be  mine, 
Count  me,  Lord,  among  the  healed ! 

"Not  with  scribe  and  pharisee, 

Dare  I  crave  an  upmost  seat ; 
Only,  Saviour,  suffer  me 

With  the  sinners,  at  thy  feet!  " 

That  little  fact  of  longitude,  that  I  always  knew,  now  that  I 
actuatize  it,  opens  such  great  gates  of  gladness  !  A  little  moving 
dayward,  on  the  earth,  and  a  piece  of  the  inexorable  conquered ! 
Time,  that  devours,  itself  is  eaten  up. 

I  do  not  expect  that  "  time  "  and  "  past  "  are  any  more  at  all 
to  them  who  dwell  in  the  celestial  sunrise,  what  they  are  to  us  ; 
I  do  not  suppose  the  years  we  count  so  sadly  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  their  dear  relations  to  us.  Our  life  is  not  slow 
detail,  and  pain  to  linger  in,  as  they  see  it.  Neither  can  they 
forget ;  there  are  no  forgetting  spaces. 

I  think  my  motherdie  is  toward  me,  just  where  she  was,  — 
whatever  else  is  added,  —  at  that  last  dear  moment.  I  do  not 
suppose  she  says  as  I  do,  "  It  is  eight  years."  She  is  among 
the  magnitudes  and  the  glories ;  where  nothing  is  small  or  far 
away,  and  nothing  —  even  the  glory  —  close  and  outshutting. 
She  holds  far  more,  and  she  measures  less. 

The  child,  at  school,  lives  out  a  whole  existence  of  play-time 
and  lessons  in  a  single  morning.  The  mother,  at  home,  in  her 
larger  thought  and  work,  feels  hours  as  moments,  and  hardly  a 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.         59 

breath  of  distance  between  the  kiss  she  gave  her  darling  for 
good-by,  and  that  with  which  she  welcomes  her  home  at  the 
noon-tide. 

"  It  makes  you  realize  your  Geography,  does  n't  it  ?  "  said 
Emery  Ann,  suddenly.  "  '  The  earth  is  a  globe,  round  like  a 
ball,  flattened  at  the  poles.' " 

"  Oh,  Emery  Ann  !     Your  geography  did  n't  say  that !  " 

"  They  said  it  amongst  'em.  I  learned  it  here  and  there  at 
the  beginnings.  But  you  can  come  out  here  and  see  it.  '  You 
realize  your  geography,  and  —  more,  finally.'  " 

I  knew  she  would  sit  here,  and  watch  the  "  passing."  It 
spoke  great  words  to  her  also.  The  passing  of  the  planet  be 
neath  the  stars. 

It  was  the  next  day  that  a  little  incident  happened.  There 
was  a  crowd  of  people  under  the  awning,  and  it  somehow  seemed 
to  spoil  the  sea-feeling. 

A  great  many  people,  in  chairs,  talking  about  just  such  things 
as  they  always  did  on  land,  —  only  varied  with  a  little  curiosity 
when  the  log  was  being  heaved,  and  the  running  calculated,  or 
the  captain  came  out  with  his  sextant  and  measured  the  sun's 
altitude  at  twelve  o'clock,  —  hinder  one  in  seeing  that  beautiful 
"  passing  "  which  I  was  blessedly  content  to  watch  continually. 

Edith  and  Margaret  and  I,  got  our  chairs  and  wraps  over  at 
the  side,  under  one  of  the  boats  that  was  laid  up  on  great 
crotched  supports  above  the  deck,  and  found  ourselves  delight 
fully  shaded  from  the  sun,  and  with  our  own  quiet  out-look  upon 
the  sea. 

How  did  we  get  them  there,  —  all  those  heavy  things  ?  Why, 
you  dear  little  land-bird,  —  or  blossom  !  that  is  the  beauty  of  it. 
You  never  have  anything  to  lift  or  to  carry,  on  ship-board  ;  not 
even  your  shawl,  if  you  are  caught  in  the  act  of  picking  it  up. 
You  have  only  to  stand  up,  and  lay  your  hand  on  the  heap  you 
have  emerged  from,  —  it  may  be  with  ever  so  honest  an  intention 
of  doing  for  yourself,  —  and  straightway  everything  is  grasped, 
and  the  folding-seat,  clattering  at  all  its  joints,  laid  hold  of,  and 
you  are  asked  by  some  man-kindly  voice,  "  where  you  will 


60  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

have  it?  "  Men  certainly  fulfill  their  generic  title  with  a  perfect 
splendor  on  board  the  Nova  Zembla  ! 

It  was  General  Rushleigh  who  hastened  to  us  when  we  began 
our  move.  It  does  not  need  introduction,  as  it  does  on  shore, 
for  people  to  speak  to  each  other,  or  offer  little  friendly  service. 
"We  are  all  in  one  boat,  and  we  have  a  human  sense  of  it.  The 
hour  may  come  when  one  life  or  one  death  may  be  before  us  all. 
Universal  relation  is  condensed  into  epitome,  abstract  good 
will  becomes  little  practical  kindness.  Or,  —  the  other  thing 
may  declare  itself,  as  in  all  days  of  judgment,  and  pass  visibly 
over  to  the  left.  But  one  is  glad  to  look  about  and  see  how  far, 
after  all,  the  sheep  out-number  the  goats  in  the  dividing. 

General  Rushleigh  placed  the  chairs,  and  helped  us  spread 
our  shawls,  and  held  them  from  blowing  away  while  we  seated 
ourselves  with  our  faces  waterward ;  and  then  he  tucked  us  up, 
and  rugged  us  over,  and  bowed  and  went  away ;  leaving  us, 
three  beatified  mummies,  to  the  long  delicious  idleness,  and  the 
passive  reception  of  the  flooding,  world-wide  joy  that  surged 
upon  us  from  bountiful  sky  and  exuberant  sea,  —  as  we  sailed, 
as  we  sailed ! 

Rose,  —  if  I  could  give  you  one  live  instant  of  the  ineffable 
•  pleasure ! 

Emery  Ann  was  packed  away  between  the  binnacle  and  the 
saloon  skylight. 

A  few  moments  later,  two  ladies  came  and  placed  themselves 
on  camp-stools  in  the  little  corner  by  the  companion-way,  just 
outside  the  forward  stanchion,  or  boat-post,  behind  which  we 
were ;  (if  I  don't  name  things  rightly,  I  can't  be  held  account 
able  ;  I  name  them  for  the  most  part,  as  Adam  did  the  beasts,  — 
intuitively,  at  sight ;)  and,  as  they  settled  themselves,  began,  or 
continued,  a  busy  chat. 

The  wind,  that  blew  their  voices  right  across  our  hearing, 
carried  our  own,  —  or  would  carry  them,  if  we  spoke,  —  pretty, 
well  away  from  theirs. 

Margaret  and  I  were  nearest,  with  our  backs  to  them ;  and 
as  we  sat  quietly  watching  the  blue  rush  so  close  beneath  us,  we 
began  to  catch,  presently,  scraps  of  their  talk. 

At  first,  we  hardly  noticed,  and  neither  understood  nor  cared  ; 
but,  directly,  this  came  :  — 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      Gl 

"  The  eldest  is  exceedingly  well  married ;  and  beside  her 
fortune,  which  was  hers  by  the  will  upon  the  wedding-day,  I  'm 
told  Mrs.  Regis  gave  her  five  thousand  dollars  as  a  gift  outright. 
Now  I  say  that  was  pretty  well  for  a  step-mother.  Indeed, 
they  say  she  has  brought  up  those  two  girls  splendidly.  I  'm 
not  surprised,  she  was  always  clever.  I  remember  her  as  a 
child,  though  I  have  n't  known  any  of  them  since.  She  used  to 
play  dolls  splendidly." 

Margaret  laughed  low. 

"  I  'm  glad  we  do  her  credit,  —  as  dolls,"  she  said  to  me. 
"  Are  people  to  help  themselves,  I  wonder,  tied  up  under  the 
keel  of  a  boat  ?  "We  can't  move,  can  we  ?  Or  speak,  that  they 
would  notice  ?  " 

The  lady  went  on. 

"  The  younger  one,  —  the  one  who  is  on  board,  —  I  believe 
she  's  sick,  —  is  rather  more  of  a  handful,  I  fancy,  than  Helen. 
My  sister  had  a  poor  little  governess  once,  who  came  from  the 
Regises.  She  was  a  meek  little  thing ;  she  said  Margaret  was 
a  magnificent  child,  but  she  could  n't  manage  her.  There  was 
a  funny  story  about  her  getting  her,  —  Margaret  getting  the 
governess,  I  mean,  —  up  into  the  crotch  of  an  apple-tree  by 
some  device,  and  leaving  her  there,  helpless,  with  her  book, 
while  she  ran  off  and  took  a  whole  half  holiday  with  kittens,  or 
some  such  nonsense.  Nobody  knew  what  had  become  of  them 
till  the  gardener  happened  to  find  Miss  Lariat  up  in  the  tree, 
and  helped  her  down." 

Margaret  had  manifested  an  annoyed  and  uneasy  amusement 
during  this  speech.  At  its  first  pause,  she  turned  her  head 
upon  the  chair-back,  lifted  her  face  as  well  as  she  could  toward 
the  speaker,  turned  up  a  corner  of  her  Shetland  veil,  and  sent  a 
clear  tone  across  the  distracting  breeze. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  I  am  Margaret  Regis,  and  the  wind  is 
this  way !  I  think  there  has  been  a  slight  variation  played  some 
where  on  that  little  nursery  melody." 

It  was  perfectly  ladylike,  and  good-humored,  but  a  finality. 
The  ladies  laughed,  but  they  must  have  felt  uncomfortable. 
The  speaker  made  the  best  of  it,  and  showed  society  breeding. 

"I  quite  resign  the  story  to  you,"  she  said;  "you  certainly 


62  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

must  have  the  authentic  version.  Allow  me  to  congratulate 
you  upon  being  on  deck.  How  lovely  it  is  here,  after  the  first 
dismality ! " 

"  Thank  you.     We  are  enjoying  it." 

It  was  a  polite,  impalpable  "  leave  us  alone."  Nobody  could 
ever  accuse  Margaret  Regis  of  rudeness ;  yet  she  was  never 
hampered  for  a  moment  by  a  pretense  ;  or  cornered  by  an  un 
welcome  conventionality. 

"  Poor  Lucy  Lariat !  "  she  said  to  me,  when  the  two  ladies, 
finding  their  immediate  occupation  gone,  had  betaken  themselves 
to  a  promenade. 

"  I  always  told  her  she  was  n't  made  to  noose  wild  colts  !  I  '11 
tell  you  about  the  apple-tree,  Miss  Patience.  It  was  an  irresisti 
ble  May  morning,  and  it  got  as  much  into  Lukie's  nerves  as  it 
did  into  mine.  I  could  n't  study  !  At  least,  not  indoors,  when 
my  apple-tree  —  for  it  had  a  crooked  branch,  high  up,  that  was 
my  favorite  seat  —  was  full  of  pink  blossoms,  and  the  birds 
were  building  in  the  marten-boxes  close  by.  I  told  Lukie  that 
I  'd  do  the  history,  —  at  least,  I  'd  listen  to  her  doing  it,  for  she 
used  to  read  it  to  me,  —  if  she  would  come  out  and  let  it  mix 
with  atmospheric  air  as  stupefying  things  ought  to  do.  '  I  '11  not 
miss  a  word,'  I  told  her ;  and  she  knew  I  always  told  her  true. 
You  see  she  was  only  nineteen,  herself,  to  my  thirteen,  and  so  — 
she  came.  She  had  never  lived  in  the  country,  and  climbed 
trees,  and  I  had  some  ado  to  get  her  up  into  the  first  crotch. 
And  there  she  stuck,  —  she  and  Mrs.  Markham.  She  was 
pretty  comfortable,  however  ;  there  was  n't  room  for  two  ;  and 
'  sound  ascends,'  I  told  her.  '  It 's  a  great  mistake  about  pulpits, 
that  the  preacher  has  to  fire  over  people's  heads  ;  they  don't  do 
that  at  the  opera.'  So  I  hopped  up  to  my  perch,  and  began  to 
keep  my  promise. 

"  How  could  I  help  it,  Dixon's  coming  down  the  plank-walk 
from  the  house,  with  that  covered  basket  ?  I  knew  it  was  my 
kittens  as  soon  as  I  saw  it.  What  did  I  care  for  King  John  and 
the  barons  ?  What  were  the  liberties  of  London  to  me  ?  The 
question  of  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness  was  coming 
closer,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rights  of  property.  I  left  Magna 
Charta  where  it  was  and  instituted  Habeas  Corpus  then  and 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:   IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      63 

there.  I  just  dropped  straight  down  through  that  tree,  past 
Lukie  and  Mrs.  Markham,  and  the  camp  at  Runnymede,  and  fell 
upon  poor  Dixon  like  a  shaft  of  lightning.  He  began  to  say,  — • 
*  Mrs.  Regis  thought  best,  miss,'  —  but  I  left  him  finishing  his 
sentence,  and  before  he  could  have  got  to  the  end  of  it,  I  had 
those  little  cats  up-stairs  in  my  room  and  on  the  sofa.  I  kept 
them  there  —  and  on  the  piazza  roof —  a  month  ;  of  course  they 
wanted  a  good  deal  of  petting  and  pacifying  after  their  kidnap 
ping;  and  I  did  forget  Miss  Lariat  for  half  an  hour;  and  Dixon 
had  gone  off  and  she  had  to  wait  till  John  Frowe  came  up. 
But  I  know  she  never  told  the  story  as  that  woman  had  it.  The 
reason  she  gave  me  up  was  because  she  sympathized  too  much 
with  me,  and  she  had  a  conscience." 

"  Mrs.  Regis  has  sent  me,  ladies,  to  bring  you  this  basket  of 
grapes,"  sombody  said,  just  as  she  stopped  speaking. 

Grapes  at  se'a !  Up  went  three  thick  veils,  and  round  came 
three  ecstatic  faces.  General  Rushleigh  stood  there,  very  much 
as  if  he  had  been  waiting  several  instants  for  a  pause.  Marga 
ret's  color  was  bright  with  something,  whether  with  sea  air,  or 
her  own  story,  or  the  consciousness  that  it  had  been  overheard. 
General  Rushleigh  drew  up  a  camp  stool,  and  stooped  to  come 
under  our  retreat. 

"  I  am  also  commissioned  to  ask  Miss  Regis  for  a  certain  key 
to  a  square  black  box,  that  I  may  fetch  a  little  chessboard.  In 
half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Regis  is  to  give  me  a  '  tour.'  Meanwhile, 
may  we  not  make  ourselves  known  to  each  other  ?  I  am  Paul 
Rushleigh." 

"  I  think  we  do  not  need  to  be  told  who  General  Rushleigh 
is,"  answered  the  old  lady  of  the  party.  "  I  am  Patience 
Strong,  and  this  is  Miss  Regis,  and  this  my  niece,  Edith." 

"  Your  mother  has  gone  into  the  captain's  deck  room  at  pres 
ent,"  he  said  to  Margaret,  as  he  seated  himself,  after  bowing  and 
taking  my  hand  at  my  self-introduction.  "  She  and  the  Rever 
end  President  are  looking  at  some  charts." 

There  is  a  Reverend  President  on  board,  and  he  carries  both 
things  in  his  face.  For  that  reason,  Margaret  has  n't  patience 
with  him,  though  I  don't  soe  how  he  could  really  be  expected 
to  help  it.  He  was  once,  1  believe,  at  the  head  of  a  college, 


64  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

not  Harvard ;  and  he  is  the  first  officer  of  ever  so  many  literary 
and  scientific  associations ;  and  being  ex-reverend  as  well  as 
ex-president,  and  counted  on  as  a  man  of  elegant  leisure,  is 
called  to  the  chair  upon  public  occasions,  until  he  has  a  way  of 
presiding  everywhere,  and  perhaps  has  a  trace  in  his  general 
manner  of  something,  which,  when  it  descends  to  the  vulgar 
extreme,  —  or  as  Dickens  would  exaggerate  it,  —  may  be  called 
self-  flunkyism,  —  a  conscious  waiting  of  the  private  and  every 
day  personality,  with  a  subdued  and  secondary  importance  upon 
the  personage  of  occasion  and  fame.  I  think  I  have  seen  a 
faint  refined  touch  of  this  here  and  there  among  our  conspicuous 
men  and  women,  and  that  a  certain  miasmatic  seed  of  it  floats, 
as  it  were,  in  the  peculiar  air  of  much  of  our  American  culture." 

Margaret  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly,  under  her  wraps.  I 
saw  a  smile,  as  slight,  curve  the  corners  of  General  Rushleigh's 
lips.  He  is  a  quick  observer,  this  young  military 'leader. 

I  think  I  catch  a  little  laugh  from  you,  Rose.  Well,  yes,  I 
did  observe  them  both  ;  I  do  notice,  myself.  I  notice  you,  you 
see,  all  this  long  way  off. 

We  ate  grapes,  —  sending  some  over  to  Emery  Ann,  who 
nodded  back  her  thanks,  and  relapsed  into  a  quiet  bliss  ;  and  we 
fell  into  a  chat  about  one  thing  and  another,  and  I  don't  know 
that  anybody  but  me  kept  the  thread  to  which  joined  a  word  of 
General  Rushleigh's,  said  after  a  little  pause,  and  without  im 
mediate  connection. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  ever  puzzled  you  to  think,  Miss  Strong,  why 
it  is  that  we  cannot  patiently  allow  anybody  to  be  conscious  of 
that  in  themselves  which  everybody  is  conscious  of  in  regard  to 
them  ?  Why  vanity  is  the  last  thing,  almost,  that  we  pardon  ?  " 

I  did  not  answer  instantly.  I  only  smiled.  It  set  me  think 
ing  somewhat.  But  Margaret  Regis  said,  — 

"  I  suppose  because  we  know  so  well  in  ourselves  the  mean 
little  thing  that  vanity  is." 

Again  General  Rushleigh  gave  her  a  quick  perceptive  look. 

"  But  there  are  persons,"  he  said,  —  "  and  I  think  these  are 
apt  to  be  most  intolerant  of  conceit,  —  who,  one  would  say,  are 
too  proud  and  independent  to  be  vain." 

"  That  is  just  what  they  are  vain  of,"  said  Margaret.  "  That 's 
just  where  the  creeping  little  thing  gets  under." 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      65 

She  spoke  with  a  perfect,  honest  disregard  of  inference  or 
application,  though  she  had  just  said,  "  It  is  because  we  know 
in  ourselves." 

"  Well,"  said  General  Rushleigh,  with  an  emphasis,  "  It  is  the 
truth  sets  free." 

They  were  both  too  well  bred  to  bring  personal  pronouns  into 
such  discourse,  —  indeed,  it  seems  to  me  that  Margaret  Regis  is 
too  direct  and  intense,  —  too  single-eyed  toward  the  light,  —  to 
remember  how  her  own  face  may  show  in  it.  But  the  little  rev 
elation  and  apprehension  were  as  manifest  to  me,  as  if  they  had 
been  saying  "  I "  and  "  you. "  Certainly,  according  to  my  theory 
of  introductions,  these  two  were  getting  introduced. 

"  I  have  been  in  a  bit  of  a  metaphysical  humor  this  morning," 
said  General  Rushleigh.  "  I  think  observations  at  sea  are  apt 
to  become  analytical.  And  I  have  been  talking  with  Miss  Eu- 
phrasia  Kirkbright,  who  always  takes  directly  hold  of  causes." 

"That  is  the  lady  with  the  gold-gray  hair?"  I  asked,  ea 
gerly. 

"  Yes.  She  is  with  the  Armstrongs.  That  is,  she  has  joined 
them  since  she  came  on  board.  They  are  old  friends,  and  have 
not  met  before  for  a  long  time.  They  are  all  going  to  London 
together.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Armstrong  are  also  very  old  friends  of 
my  own.  I  have  not  surely  outstayed  my  half  hour  ?  Here 
come  Mrs.  Regis  and  President  L ." 

"  Do  you  think  it  fair  to  talk  in  great,  smooth,  round  periods 
at  sea  ?  Where  one  can't  hold  on  to  anything,  except  by  cor 
ners?"  said  Margaret,  whimsically.  "And  don't  you  think  it 
is  uncivilized  warfare  to  come  down  upon  people  where  they 
can't  get  away  ?  It  is  as  cruel  as  pigeon-shooting,"  and  she 
shook  herself  a  little  in  her  mummy-roll. 

"  Did  you  think  I  tied  you  up  to  come  and  pelt  at  you  ?  I 
will  atone  as  well  as  I  can,  by  defending  you  from  a  second  per 
secutor,"  said  the  General,  laughing.  "  Mrs.  Regis,  I  beg  your 
pardon,  I  will  bring  the  chessboard  in  a  moment.  Doctor,  will 
you  come  and  look  over  ?  I  know  you  are  an  authority.  We 
shall  find  seats,  I  think,  under  the  awning  on  the  other  side." 

And  he  took  the  key  from  Margaret's  hand,  and  disappeared 
down  the  companion-way. 

5 


66  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

"  I  like  that  man  !  " 

"  This  Margaret  Regis  is  a  fine  creature  !  " 

Do  you  think  they  came  and  said  that  to  me,  either  of  them  ? 
No,  indeed,  it  is  not  likely  !  It  came  to  me  and  said  itself.  You 
need  not  wait  for  the  very  words  in  your  ear,  to  be  confided  in, 
or  to  get  your  share.  You  are  confided  in  all  the  time,  if  you 
are  alive  to  it.  It  is  by  a  far  more  tender  and  inward  way  that 
a  bit  of  everybody's  piece  is  given  to  you.  This  that  people 
call  "  living  alone  in  the  world  "  would  be  a  bitter  separateness 
out  of  it,  if  it  were  not  so.  If  it  were  not  for  the  ,"  things  ac 
complished"  in  the  neighbor-lives  that  "are  in  the  world." 

But  —  dear  me !  why  do  I  begin  to  talk  of  things  accom 
plished,  —  only  that  every  real  instant  is  an  accomplishment  of 
itself,  —  because  these  two  have  met  in  this  wise  with  an  instant's 
understanding  ? 

Why  was  nothing  accomplished  in  my  sympathies  and  intui 
tions  when  I  saw  Harry  Mackenzie  bid  Margaret  good-bye  the 
other  morning  on  East  Boston  wharf? 

Yet  sometimes  there  are  only  instants,  to  show  what  all  life 

—  that  waits,  a  soundless,  unawakened  thing,  like  an  untouched, 
unstrung  viol,  or  lies  heavily  like  dead,  unvoiced  air  —  might 
be! 

An  hour  later,  our  two  names  were  said  for  us  to  each  other, 

—  Euphrasia   Kirkbright's   and  mine.     When    I  heard  "  Miss 
Patience  Strong  "  repeated  after  hers,  it  was  with  something  like 
the  thrill  with  which  I  heard  in  church,  five-and-twenty  years 
ago,  Patience  Strong  "  propounded  "  for  the  communion. 

That  afternoon  we  went  and  found  a  beautiful  new  place  to 
gether,  away  out  behind  the  wheel-house,  where  nothing  but  the 
slight-seeming  curve  of  the  stern-rail  was  between  us  aud  the 
stretch  of  radiant  water  that  widened  out  between  us  and>  the 
home-land. 

Emery  Ann  was  in  my  reclining  chair  under  the  boat,  taking 
a  delicious  after-dinner  nap ;  the  very  thing  she  needs,  and  that 
is  quietly  filling  her  with  a  reserve  of  strength  ;  and  which  she 
never  would  have  taken  at  home,  where  there  were  dishes  to  be 
washed.  How  good  it  is  that  she  is  out  of  the  way  of  dishes ! 


THE   LONG    SEA-LETTER:    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.         67 

And  so  out  of  the  way,  that  I  do  not  believe  she  ever  even 
thinks  of  them. 

Miss  Kirkbright  and  I  sat  quite  still  for  minutes  after  we 
had  spread  our  shawls  and  cushions  and  nestled  down  together. 
I  do  not  know  how  she  felt  about  it,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  me 
that  I  cared  to  say  any  common  kind  of  words  to  her.  I  felt  as 
if  something  real  were  waiting,  hovering ;  and  I  would  not 
speak  for  fear  of  losing  its  alighting. 

There  is  one  thing  you  can  never  have  seen,  or  dreamed, 
Rose ;  for  you  have  never  been  in  a  great  ship  in  mid-ocean. 
You  cannot  guess  what  it  is  like,  —  that  radiant  water  that  rolls 
its  heaps  together  after  you  in  the  cool,  pure  masses  of  clear, 
beryl-green ! 

Away  down,  down,  you  see  it,  and  far  back  ;  as  if  the  urgent- 
moving  vessel,  with  its  whirling  screw,  were  an  angel  troubling 
the  deep  into  strange  life  and  glory. 

From  the  pearl-white,  scattered  particles  just  settling  from 
the  first  foam-flash,  to  the  grand,  rich,  gathered  color  where  they 
bank  themselves  as  it  were  on  either  hand  in  the  aqua-marine 
splendor  from  which  the  jewel  borrows  name,  it  was  a  moving, 
shifting,  voluminous  effulgence,  that  told  how  the  whole  vast  Sea 
is  a  jewel  of  God  which  He  wears  upon  his  finger,  and  which, 
from  storm-darkness  to  the  dazzle  of  white  waves  in  the  sun,  — 
in  all  changes  of  amber  and  rosy  and  emerald  and  azure  and 
violet,  —  spells  out  the  hidden  syllables  of  his  mystical  phrase 
of  color,  according  to  its  instant  pulsing,  and  the  shining  or 
shading  of  his  Face  of  Light ! 

"  What  makes  it  so,  I  wonder  ?  "  I  said  at  last ;  for  it  seemed 
as  if  I  must  ask  something. 

"  To  know  that,"  said  Miss  Euphrasia,  in  a  sweet,  quiet, 
thinking  voice,  "  one  must  know  what  the  light  and  the  water 
are ;  one  must  go  back  of  mere  mechanical  reasons  into  the  rep 
resentativeness." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  I  said,  remembering  "  Thoughts  in  my  Garden," 
and  the  meanings  of  the  birds,  that  came  to  me  also,  just  the 
same,  because  they  were. 

"  I  do  not  mean,"  she  went  on,  "  that  we  must  look  out  an  ar 
bitrary  dictionary  signification.  People  do  try  to  interpret  so ; 


68  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

and  perhaps  they  cannot  go  so  far  amiss  as  if  they  did  not  rec 
ognize  or  use  the  keys  of  things  at  all.  But  the  sign  octaves 
multiply  and  change  their  harmonies,  as  the  octaves  of  music 
do.  Just  running  up  and  down  the  scales  is  not  entering  even 
over  the  threshold,  into  the  hidden  chords  and  symphonies. 
The  word  is  written  in  signs,  but  not  in  a  secret  cipher.  It  is 
put  in  the  most  direct  of  languages, —  the  showing  of  things; 
which  men  have  only  feebly  and  incompletely  organized  into 
syllables.  What  does  water  give  you  a  feeling  of?  That  is 
the  question." 

"  It  feels  —  of  many  things,  as  it  has  many  forms,"  I  said. 
"  Of  life,  of  truth  and  the  eternal  refreshing ;  of  cleansing  and 
satisfying,  of  surrounding,  and  inflowing,  of  answering  and  like 
ness,  of  pureness,  of  gladness ;  of  might,  that  is  fluid-gentle 
and  awful  as  great  floods  ;  of  everlastingness." 

"And  the  light,  that  pours  down  into  the  water  with  what 
ever  moves  and  stirs  it,  —  that  touches  life  and  reveals  it ;  that 
makes  truth  glorious  to  sight ;  that  manifests  the  cleansing  and 
the  pureness ;  that  makes  the  surrounding  shine,  and  take  a 
color ;  that  interfuses  the  might  with  tender  presence ;  that 
saves  eternalness  from  being  a  blank,  and  fills  it  with  live  joy 
and  glory  ;  what  can  it  be  or  signify,  but  the  God-showing  that 
quickens  through  all,  and  makes  what  we  call  truth  the  lan 
guage  and  recognition  between  us  and  the  Lord ;  the  joy  of 
his  very  thought,  which  becomes  in  us  the  joy  of  our  under 
standing?  " 

We'  did  not  say  any  more  for  a  little  while  ;  one  does  not 
speak  out  things  like  these  as  one  recites  a  printed  page.  Miss 
Kirkbright  spoke  slowly,  as  it  came  to  her,  by  degrees,  to  speak  ; 
and  then,  though  we  had  scarcely  approached  what  we  had  set 
in  search  of,  we  waited,  and  rested.  And  continually,  before  our 
eyes,  the  wonderful  green  light,  born  of  the  sun  nnd  flood,  was 
rolling,  playing,  speaking ;  yes,  "  chanting  aloud,"  had  we  the 
ears  to  hear. 

"  One  little  track,  —  one  motion  breaking  a  line  through  the 
great  Deep.  It  is  like  a  human  living." 

"  And  how  beautiful,"  I  said,  "  the  things  behind  us  grow,  as 
the  water  parts  away  and  drifts  backward.  How  lovely  and 
dear  every  particle,  as  we  leave  it !  " 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:    IN  MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        69 

"  And  how  alive  !  " 

"  But  only  for  such  a  little  way,"  I  answered,  sadly.  "Away 
back,  it  is  all  over ;  all  as  if  it  had  not  been.  It  makes  me 
afraid,  almost,  of  the  meanings." 

"  Why  ?  Because  we  cannot  look  back  all  the  way  ?  What 
is  all  the  way  ?  Back  as  far  as  we  seem  to  have  moved  in  this 
infinite,  —  as  far  as  we  can  trace  ourselves,  —  it  is  all  alight 
with  the  shine  and  stir  ;  it  is  full  of  presence,  —  of  now-being  ; 
it  takes  in  every  particle  the  color  of  hope,  of  livingness,  of 
lasting." 

"  It  does  not  stay.  Thousands  of  ships  have  tracked  over  the 
same  spaces  ;  and  there  is  not  any  mark.  And  ours  is  vanish 
ing  while  we  are  talking  about  it." 

If  I  had  been  speaking  with  some  one  else,  —  some  one  less 
than  I,  as  Miss  Kirkbright  is  greater,  —  I  should  have  insisted 
on  the  hope  which  I  believe  in  ;  I  might  have  said,  after  my 
gift  and  way,  just  what  she  said  ;  but  I  wanted  her,  now,  to  say 
it  to  me.  I  put  forward  my  own  questions,  and  let  my  own  an 
swers  lie  forgotten.  I  have  felt  so  sharply,  in  these  days  of 
change  and  leaving  behind,  how  my  dear  days  are  gone,  and 
how  the  'days  that  are  to  come,  though  they  must  live  on  from 
them,  must  be  so  different !  In  new,  strange  places,  even  ;  the 
breaking  away  from  the  very  outward  has  begun ;  who  can  tell 
what  it  will  go  on  to  ? 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Kirkbright,  in  that  still,  sure  tone  of  hers ; 
"  it  does  not  stay,  —  the  sign  does  not.  The  mere  sign  never 
stays  ;  in  our  lives,  even.  That,  also,  is  where  the  likeness  is, 
—  the  meaning,  that  you  are  afraid  of.  It  is  only  in  the  spirit 
ual  world  that  we  truly  live,  now;  or  are  truly  anything  to 
each  other.  The  heaven  and  earth  of  the  outward  pass  away 
continually  ;  it  is  what  they  were  made  for;  if  they  did  not,  we 
should  be  in  prison.  We  only  make  one  little  sign  at  a  time  in 
the  outward  world,  —  the  sign  of  the  present  moment.  That  is 
nothing,  in  itself,  let  it  be  what  it  may,  or  between  whomsoever ; 
a  moment  of  greatest  joy  or  greatest  pain  ;  it  is  nothing  except 
for  the  past  which  has  been,  and  the  future  which  shall  be,  and 
which  are  both  forever  alive,  like  these  live  waters. 

"  What  is  our  love  and  intercourse,  as  we  grow  older  and  the 


70  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

circumstance  of  life  changes,  but  a  mutual  reentering  into  what 
has  been,  to  join  it  with  the  word  and  circumstance  of  now ; 
perhaps,  also,  to  the  word  we  wait  and  hope  for.  Our  past  is, 
—  in  the  spiritual,  —  as  much  as  our  to-come.  Blessed  are  the 
poor  —  of  now  —  in  the  spirit  which  holds  then  —  and  then  ! 
Why  should  the  gone-by  be  tangible,  when  the  next  moment 
cannot  be  ?  It  is  a  great  deal  more  real  because  we  cannot 
touch  nor  see,  but  can  only  hold  it, — hallow  it,  —  as  we  do  the 
Name  of  the  Invisible !  It  is  there,  —  where  our  future  is ; 
where  we  are,  since  we  cannot  rest  in  any  instant ;  and  once,  — 
that  sweet  word  which  brings  all  to  the  blessed  focus  and  point 
of  promise,  —  once,  we  shall  find  them  together  !  " 

We  let  the  silence  fall  between  us.  I  did  not  ask  any  more  ; 
I  could  not  then  have  taken  any  more. 

I  sat  happy  in  what  she  had  given  me,  and  thinking  what  I 
say  to  you,  Rose ;  that  there  is  a  very  something  of  the  Lord 
Himself  about  this  Miss  Euphrasia ;  something  that  makes  you 
feel  as  if  you  could  bring  your  empty  pitcher  to  her  feet,  like 
the  Woman  of  Samaria,  and  say,  Fill  for  me  of  this  water ! 

Yes ;  He  still  sends  them  out ;  there  are  always,  at  least,  the 
Seventy ! 

It  was,  I  suppose,  because  I  felt  that  I  had  received  my  sac 
rament,  and  could  not  instantly  return,  that  I  spoke  of  some 
thing  different,  presently ;  the  thing  that  first  suggested.  As 
we  do,  perhaps,  when  we  turn  away  from  the  Altar.  Only  I 
think  there  is  always  a  wonderful  new  humanness  of  sympathy 
in  those  next  words,  let  them  be  what  they  may. 

General  Rushleigh  walked  up  near,  then  turned  and  walked 
away  again,  ship-fashion.  I  spoke  of  him.  I  asked  a  question 
people  are  very  apt  to  ask. 

"  General  Rushleigh  seems  to  me  a  fine  kind  of  a  man,"  I  said, 
as  we  both  glanced  up,  and  back  again.  "  Is  he  married,  do  you 
know  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  He  was  engaged  once,  —  it  is  very 
well  known,  —  to  Faith  Gartney;  that  is,  Mrs.  Armstrong. 
But  the  mystery  of  perfect  choice  was  wanting,  somehow,  and 
Faith  found  it  out  in  time." 

"  One  would  not  think  it  need  have  been  so." 


THE  LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        71 

"  No ;  to  see  them  now.  But  that  was  years  ago.  Both 
needed  leading,  then  ;  and  the  woman,  from  her  woman's  need, 
discerned  it  first.  It  was  the  natural  order ;  the  man  learned 
his,  and  found  his  answer,  afterward.  Paul  Rushleigh  says  that 
life,  dealing  so  strangely  and  suddenly  with  him,  first  confronted 
him  with  the  living  conviction  that  there  was  a  Thought  of  Some 
One  in  his  story,  above  his  own.  Some  woman,  now,  may  be 
waiting  to  be  led  by  him.  It  was  one  of  the  divine  hindrances ; 
it  is  one  of  the  single  rectified  points  in  the  human  tangle  that 
ought  to  be,  all  through,  a  blessed  righteousness*  And  will  be  ! " 

"  Miss  Kirkbright ! "  I  said,  ten  minutes  afterward,  as  we 
began  to  think  of  moving  to  rejoin  our  companions,  "just  one 
thing.  Don't  you  think  it  possible,  among  all  these  parables, 
to  make  a  wrong  one  ?" 

"  Can  you  make  a  parable  at  all  ?  Can  you  even  be  misled 
with  one, —  for  I  suppose  that,  rather,  is  what  you  may  mean, 
—  looking  at  it  leisurely,  all  through  ?  For  a  parable  is  a 
thing  that  must  fit.  We  do  not  make,  —  we  find  it.  It  is 
there.  Christ  did  not  say,  —  '  Listen,  —  I  make  a  parable  ; ' 
but  —  '•Behold  the  parable  of  the  fig-tree.  Consider  the  lilies.' 
You  may  force  and  distort  argument;  you  may  turn  reason  into 
sophistry;  but  you  cannot  put  into  the  creation  types  that 
which  is  not." 

When  we  went  back  to  the  chair  under  the  boat,  we  found 
Emery  Ann  waked  up,  and  General  Rushleigh  sitting  beside 
her.  He  had  found  her  making  a  little  fettered  struggle  to 
rearrange  her  shawls  which  the  wind  had  blown  about,  and  to 
regain  her  book  which  had  dropped  from  her  lap  and  slidden 
away.  Then  he  had  discovered  that  she  would  like  some  lemon 
ade,  and  had  sent  for  some,  and  remained  at  her  side,  talking 
with  her.  She  was  asking  him  questions  about  the  war,  and  if 
he  ever  came  across  the  Fortieth  Maine,  in  which  Penuel  had 
been  a  lieutenant,  and  was  wounded,  heading  a  company,  in  the 
great  fight  before  Petersburg,  "  when  the  mind  was  blowed  up." 

He  had  listened  to  the  whole  story,  in  which  she  certainly 
lapsed,  through  the  firing  up  of  her  old  pride  and  patriotism, 
into  an  uncorrected  diction,  forgetting  the  monitorship  she  could 


72  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

hold  over  the  more  obvious  points  of  grammar  and  elocution 
"  when  she  tried  "  and  "  before  folks ;  "  but  omitting  nothing  in 
the  recital  of  Penuel's  valor,  which  had  been,  after  all,  of  the 
same  genuine  Down-East  stamp  as  her  honest  speech ;  telling 
how  he  had  been  hemmed  in  with  a  handful  of  men  in  that  ter 
rible  breach,  and  had  shouted  with  his  sword  up  over  his  head, 
"  Now,  boys !  We  've  just  got  to  cut  our  way  out  of  this ! "  so 
that  the  nearest  rebels  flinched  for  a  second  at  the  sight  of  his 
terrible  pluck,  and  he  and  his  handful  were  among  the  few 
who  got  back  that  day  into  the  lines  to  tell  what  the  fight  had 
been. 

I  think  Emery  Ann  interested  him ;  for  he  need  not  have  sat 
so  long  by  her,  even  out  of  chivalry  to  a  plain,  middle-aged 
woman  such  as  some  men  especially  have.  But  then,  after  the 
first  kindness,  why  should  not  anybody  be  interested  in  Emery 
Ann  ?  General  Rushleigh  has  doubtless  learned  some  values 
among  plain  New  England  soldiers  in  the  face  of  deadly  re 
alities,  which  he  might  never  have  learned  in  Boston  parlors, 
or  even  manufacturing  in  Massachusetts. 

Emery  Ann  spoke  out,  after  he  left  her.  She  could  put  in 
words,  aod  was  pretty  sure  to,  that  which  had  been  a  silence 
with  Margaret  Regis. 

"  General  Rushleigh  is  a  nice  man,"  was  her  sententious  ver 
dict.  "  He  isn't  one  of  the  sort  that  acts  as  if  out-doors  had  got 
to  be  made  bigger  for  'em." 

What  was  that  I  said  about  "  things  accomplished  ?  "  Here 
was  another !  What  should  I  do  if  Emery  Ann  should  set  that 
"  punkin  "  at  him  ? 

Do  you  think  I  troubled  ?  Some  things  occur  to  one,  and 
others  not,  —  though  the  happenings  and  the  showings  be  the 
same.  I,  too,  you  may  perceive,  think  General  Rushleigh  is  a 
nice  man.  It  was  the  first  thought  I  had  about  him.  It  is  a 
comfortable  thing  that  some  women  are  forty-eight  years  old. 

I  dare  say  you  think  I  shall  never  get  you  across  the  water, 
at  this  rate.  If  you  had  been  with  me  on  board  the  Nova  Zem- 
bla,  I  do  not  think  you  would  have  cared  much  if  I  never  did. 
But  you  see,  I  am  across  at  this  moment's  writing ;  though  my 


THE  LONG  SEA-LETTER:  IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.      73 

story  of  over  the  way  is  likely  to  be  like  the  light  from  the 
Btars,  —  a  long  time  reaching  you  from  any  given  point. 
But  what  matter,  if  it  keeps  coming,  and  all  comes  ?  "  Simi 
larly,"  to  myself. 

I  shall  go  right  straight  on,  as  the  real  things  carry  or  detain 
me.  If  I  am  a  good  while  getting  over,  it  will  be  because,  as 
the  blessed  reckon,  I  lived  long  upon  the  sea.  1  may  be  a 
good  while  in  some  places  here,  where  I  stay  only  hours  or 
days,  but  where  I  see  and  discern  much ;  and  very  briefly  in 
others,  where  my  body  may  rest  or  be  hindered  for  weeks  or 
months.  These  last  will  be  the  catching-up  places.  There  are 
such  in  the  years  we  live.  Perhaps  my  story  will  keep  on  tell 
ing,  after  I  get  quite  back  out  of  it  all  into  the  home  corner  at 
Old  Farm;  as  the  light  streams  on  after  the  star  is  set  or 
burned  out.  Will  you  not  like  it  better  so  ? 

I  think  we  often  give  our  friends  our  mere  tediousness,  writ 
ing  letters  where  we  happen  to  find  the  time,  and  not  taking  the 
trouble  to  go  back  far  enough  or  close  enough,  into  the  parts 
where  we  found  everything  but  time.  I  would  rather  follow  my 
own  trail  at  a  patient  and  careful  distance.  I  will  give  you  only 
what  really  makes  a  mark  ;  what  stays  by  myself,  so  that  I  keep 
it  and  remember  it  without  note.  There  may  be  something 
like  the  difference  between  an  auctioneer's  inventory  of  a  sale, 
and  the  things  you  really  bid  off  and  take  home  with  you. 

Mrs.  Regis,  too,  liked  General  Rushleigh.  It  seemed  quite 
fit  that  they  should  talk,  and  walk,  and  play  chess  together. 
They  were  certainly  the  most  elegant  man  and  woman  on  board ; 
and  she  seemed  to  claim  him  on  that  patent  suitability.  I  no 
tice  that  elegant  women,  no  longer  young,  are  often  seemingly 
aware  that  nothing  outwardly  becomes  them  better  than  the 
attendance  and  friendship  of  a  younger  man,  of  clearly  and  ex 
ceptionally  fine  tone  and  presence.  There  is  a  mutual  gauge 
and  recognition  across  a  technical  disparity;  a  reciprocal  dis- 
tiuguishment. 

It  came  to  pass  that  the  sheltered  place  under  and  about  the 
boat  grew  to  be  considered  our  place ;  our  chairs  were  always 
put  there.  It  was  just  aside  from  the  promenaders,  who  might 


74  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

brush  against  you  anywhere  under  the  awning  that  stretched 
across  the  middle  deck.  Mrs.  Regis  adopted  it ;  discerning  with 
that  nice  tact  and  felicitous  foregoing  of  hers,  that  second  best 
could  easily  be  made  the  best ;  and  liking,  I  think,  a  place  of 
her  own  that  was  always  tacitly  acknowledged. 

The  games  of  chess  went  on  here,  and  Edith  and  Margaret 
watched  them.  Then  the  two  girls  roused  to  a  great  desire  to 
try  for  themselves,  and  the  captain  lent  them  a  chessboard,  and 
the  boat-corner,  with  its  daily  group,  grew  to  be  called  the 
chess  club.  Miss  Euphrasia,  and  the  Armstrongs  and  I,  drew 
away  quietly  sometimes  to  the  place  behind  the  wheel-house, 
where  we  sat  upon  our  shawls,  and  watched  the  water,  and  had 
talks  together.  Especially  at  even-fall,  when  the  sun  dropped 
away  behind  us,  and  the  sea  and  the  sky  were  a  floor  and  dome 
of  palpitating,  interchanging  color-splendor. 

But  I  was  speaking  of  the  games  of  chess. 

The  young  girls  grew  ambitious.  One  day  Edith  said  to 
Mrs.  Regis,  when  a  great  match  was  just  ended  between  her  and 
the  General,  and  he  had  beaten  the  "  three  games*  of  advan 
tage  "  which  had  been  contested  for  through  some  five  times 
three  of  wavering  majority  since  they  began  :  — 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Regis,  could  you  be  benevolent  enough  to  change 
partners,  you  and  General  Rushleigh,  and  take  us  for  a  game  or 
two,  for  our  good  ?  It  would  only  be  sham-fight  on  your  parts, 
I  know  ;  but  if  it  would  n't  be  too  stupid  ?  " 

"  Quite  otherwise,  my  dear,"  was  the  graciously  ready  reply. 
And  it  naturally  fell  out  that  she  took  Edith  for  her  own  an 
tagonist,  and  that  General  Rushleigh  began  a  game  with  Mar 
garet. 

Perhaps  it  was  just  because  his  methods  were  scientific,  and 
Margaret's  were  mere  original  inspiration,  that  she  took  him  a 
little  by  surprise  in  the  beginning  of  the  game,  and  brought 
about  what  he  declared,  bending  suddenly  with  fresh  interest 
over  the  board,  was  a  "  quite  novel  position  of  things." 

"  Not  provided  for  in  civilized  warfare,  perhaps,"  said  Marga 
ret,  laughing.  "  See  what  it  is  to  fight  with  a  red  Indian  ! " 

The  glow  of  excitement  and  keen  health  upon  her  cheek,  and 
the  dark  lustre  of  her  brown  eyes,  and  the  vivid  color  of  her 


THE  LONG   SEA-LETTER:    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        75 

scarlet-lined  hood  that  reflected  itself  warmly  over  all,  made  her 
a  wonderfully  pretty  illustration,  at  the  moment,  of  her  own 
word.  If  I  saw  it,  of  course  others  did.  The  reverend  presi 
dent,  who  had  drawn  near  and  was  looking  on,  lifted  his  eye 
brows  gently,  and  let  his  lips  play  significantly  as  he  regarded 
her.  General  Rushleigh  seemed  intent  upon  his  move.  When 
he  made  it,  it  became  Margaret's  turn  to  grow  grave,  and  give 
her  whole  mind  to  her  response. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  her  little  unsophisticated  in 
novations  would  disturb  much,  or  hold  long  against  the  tactics  of 
her  opponent.  They  seemed  to  give  a  dash  of  unexpectedness, 
and  to  bring  about  some  unusual  combinations ;  but  there  was 
soon  necessitated  a  brisk  exchange  of  pieces,  and  the  contest 
narrowed  down,  —  if  a  chess-player  would  call  it  narrowing, 
when  the  whole  field  is  thrown  so  open  that  every  possibility  in 
its  entire  range  comes  to  be  taken  into  the  account,  —  to  four  or 
five  pieces  and  as  many  pawns  on  either  side. 

But  here,  somehow,  Margaret's  native  quick  perception  came 
in  play.  She  managed  an  excellent  defense,  and  presently  bore 
down  in  her  turn  with  a  pretty  strong  pressure  upon  General 
Rushleigh's  king,  advancing  a  pawn  at  the  same  time  toward  a 
fair  possibility  of  queening. 

General  Rushleigh  paused.  Margaret  caught  her  breath  and 
waited  eagerly  for  what  he  would  do.  He  had  his  finger  on  a 
castle,  quite  engrossed  with  the  immediate  threat  and  the  need 
ful  parry,  when  she  suddenly  exclaimed  :  — 

"  General  Rushleigh  !  Do  you  forget  my  other  knight  over 
there  ?  " 

There  was  but  one  effective  move  for  the  castle  ;  if  he  made 
it,  the  other  knight  might  come  down  with  a  check,  and  a  sec 
ond  move  would  bring  him  into  the  very  heart  of  the  General's 
forces,  threatening  all  round. 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me?  "  he  asked,  looking  up.  "  You  might 
have  had  the  game." 

''I  don't  want  it, —  until  it  belongs  to  me,"  she  answered 
quietly.  "  Of  course  if  you  recollected  you  would  move  dif 
ferently." 

"  It  was  my  business  to  recollect." 


76  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

But  he  checked  with  his  bishop,  and  provided  by  the  move 
against  the  knight's  advance.  The  next  move  brought  down 
his  castle,  and  a  few  more  plays  broke  up  the  little  chance  of 
queening,  and  left  a  free  opening  for  one  of  the  opposite  pawns 
to  push  on. 

The  game  went  against  her. 

"You  gave  it  back  to  me,  Miss  Margaret.  I  was  on  the 
point  of  a  blind  mistake.  I  consider  it  a  drawn  game." 

"  I  don't,"  she  replied.  "  I  did  n't  want  you  to  make  a  blind 
mistake.  The  game  could  n't  belong  to  me  by  hiding  any 
thing." 

"  Ladies  are  not  often  so  ready  to  give  notice  of  their  '  other 
knights,'  when  they  have  a  game  to  win,"  said  the  reverend 
president,  jocosely. 

Margaret  superbly  ignored  the  remark,  though  I  saw  an  eye 
lid  quiver,  and  her  cheek  and  lip  burned  a  shade  warmer.  She 
said  to  General  Rushleigh,  with  the  same  simple  quietness  as 
before  :  — 

"  The  beauty  of  chess  is,  that  it  can't  be  underhand.  You 
can't  do  anything  slily  or  in  a  corner." 

"  You  certainly  cannot,"  said  the  General,  with  a  gentle,  equal 
emphasis  upon  each  word.  "  Shall  we  set  the  pieces  again  ?  "  . 

After  that,  I  think  no  day  passed  without  their  playing. 

We  were  within  two  days  of  Queenstown. 

I  sat  with  my  portfolio  and  pencil,  going  on  with  this  long 
sea-letter,  some  dozen  pages  back.  Margaret  Regis  was  beside 
me,  writing  also.  Almost  everybody  meant  to  send  some  line 
back  from  Queenstown.  Edith  was  scratching  away,  girl- 
fashion,  a  little  duodecimo  volume  of  note-paper  to  her  mother. 

Margaret  wrote  rapidly  for  a  while  ;  then  she  leaned  her  cheek 
upon  her  left  hand,  while  her  right  turned  the  pencil  loosely, 
listlessly,  between  the  fingers.  She  looked  off  upon  the  hori 
zon,  where  a  large  ship  to  which  we  had  dipped  our  flag  half  an 
hour  before,  was  lessening  as  it  sailed  westward. 

Her  quietness,  after  a  few  moments,  interrupted  me.  I  set 
up  an  elbow,  too,  and  rested  my  chin  on  the  closed  hand  that 
held  my  pencil.  Then  my  quietness  turned  her  round. 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        77 

"  Somebody  told  me  once,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "  never  to  use 
great  pieces  when  little  ones  would  do.  Don't  you  think  people 
say  that  in  a  good  many  ways,  —  so  that  the  big  pieces  get  hid 
den  away,  though  there  are  plenty  of  them,  and  you  worry  over 
the  insignificant  ones,  because  you  are  expected  to  use  them  ?  " 

I  knew  then  that  she  was  writing  a  letter  of  little  pieces, 
while  the  larger  ones  lay  all  around  her,  that  she  longed,  yet 
shrunk,  to  touch. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied.  "  Some  people  live  a  life  of  little  pieces, 
because  it  is  all  that  is  expected  of  them.  I  'm  afraid  I  am  of 
a  very  wasteful  nature.  I  always  cut  right  into  the  whole  cloth 
if  I  can  get  a  chance." 

"Older  people  may,"  said  Margaret.  "We  younger  ones 
don't  dare."  "  What  do  you  suppose  we  are  set  at  patchwork 
for  ?  "  she  spoke  again,  without  waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  When  we  might  be  making  wedding  garments  ?  "  said  I.  I 
was  sorry,  in  a  second,  that  I  had  happened  to  say  that.  The 
first  look  of  positive  pain  that  I  had  ever  seen  there,  passed 
over  Margaret  Regis's  face. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  shall  ever  make  a  wedding  garment,"  she 
said,  slowly,  and  almost  as  if  she  meant  two  things. 

I  told  you  it  was  n't  a  novel,  Rose  ;  that  is  all  I  know,  and 
all  I  may  ever  know,  about  it.  Of  course  I  could  n't  press  her 
for  any  confidence,  or  lead  her  on,  even,  in  talk.  And  though 
I  do  feel  things,  and  catch  dim  answers  far  off,  I  am  not  Miss 
Euphrasia,  to  have  the  word  out  of  heaven  ready,  always.  I 
may  have  missed  something  here,  of  help  that  could  have  been 
given.  We  all  do  miss  so  many  things.  Emery  Ann  says, 
"  An  opportunity  is  like  a  pin  in  the  sweepings ;  you  catch 
sight  of  it  just  as  it  flies  away  from  you  and  gets  buried  again." 

That  night  we  sat  up  late  on  deck.  We  all  gathered  at  the 
stern,  upon  and  about  the  wheel-house. 

We  had  passed  several  vessels  and  steamers  during  the  day ; 
had  signaled,  dipped  flags,  and  since  dark  sent  up  rockets.  It  is 
so  beautiful,  finding  human  life  and  sympathies  thickening  about 
us,  making  happy  signs  and  greetings,  as  we  come  up  out  of  the 
lonely  waste  that  we  had  seemed  quite  separate  in,  and  approach 
the  other  side.  To-morrow,  they  tell  us,  we  shall  see  land. 


78  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

As  we  sat  there,  close  to  each  other,  in  pairs  and  groups,  we 
fell  to  singing  hymns.  Edith  began  it  with  a  little  low  warbling 
to  herself,  which  when  she  let  define  itself  into  the  notes  of  the 
lovely  "  Shining  Shore,"  Mr.  Armstrong  joined  the  words  to,  in 
a  rich,  strong  baritone.  And  when  it  came  to  the  chorus,  — 

"  For  oh !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand, 

Our  friends  are  passing  over; 

And  just  before,  the  shining  shore 

We  may  almost  discover,  "  — 

not  a  voice  was  withheld,  not  even  mine,  or  Emery  Ann's. 

Then  we  had,  —  "  I  'm  a  pilgrim,"  —  "  Guide  me,  O  thou 
great  Jehovah,"  "  He  leadeth  me,"  and  last  of  all,  Miss  Euphra- 
sia  began  that  dearest,  deepest,  tenderest,  "  Nearer,  my  God." 

I  noticed  Margaret  Regis's  voice  all  through  the  singing,  as 
often  as  she  joined,  and  I  noticed  her  not  joining.  Sometimes 
she  sang  a  stanza,  —  and  her  tones  were  thrillingly  sweet  and 
powerful,  —  then  she  dropped  into  silence  just  where  the  hymn 
was  most  beautiful,  and  when  she  came  to  that  last  one,  she  sat 
perfectly  still. 

Miss  Euphrasia  said  softly  as  it  ended,  "  You  did  not  help  us, 
my  dear." 

"  Do  you  think  everybody  ought  to  sing  words  like  those  ?  " 
was  the  low  answer.  "  I  have  not  come  to  them." 

Miss  Euphrasia  did  not  speak  again  at  that  moment,  but  I 
saw  her  hand  steal  quietly  over  upon  Margaret's  as  it  lay  in  her 
lap.  Later,  as  a  few  of  us  still  lingered,  loth  to  leave  that 
wonderful  stillness  between  sea  and  stars,  I  heard  her  say,  "  I 
suppose  no  one  can  say  "  Even  though  a  cross  it  be,"  until  their 
own  cross,  and  that  which  grows  in  the  shadow  of  it,  begin  to 
shape  themselves." 

"  Perhaps  —  until  the  shadow  begins  to  fall  behind,"  said 
Margaret.  "The  first  threatening  of  things  —  before  you  are 
quite  sure  of  the  shape  of  them  "  —  and  there  she  stopped. 

"  One  must  not  mistake  the  way,"  said  Miss  Euphrasia.  "  We 
need  not  stand  in  our  own  light,  with  aimless  arms  flung  out  to 
right  and  left,  restlessly,  and  make  our  own  shadow  before  us. 
Against  that  we  have  the  prayer,  '  Make  us  to  have  a  right 
judgment  in  all  things,  and  keep  us  evermore  in  thy  holy  com 
fort.'  " 


THE   LONG    SEA-LETTER  :    IX    MANY    PARAGRAPHS.         79 

"  We  may  have  left  that  out  —  or  never  known  it  —  till  too 
late  —  I  suppose."  Margaret  added  those  two  words  in  a 
changed  tone,  as  if  she  passed,  or  chose  to  pass,  from  earnest 
and  personal  to  general  and  commonplace. 

"  Then  there  is  another ;  '  Forgive  us  our  sins,  negligenots, 
and  ignorances,  and  deliver  us  from  those  evils  that  we  most 
justly  have  deserved.'  There  is  nothing  that  cannot  be  taken 
out  of  our  lives,  —  in  God's  way,  —  any  more  than  there  is 
anything  which  cannot  be  given  in.  There  must  be  pain,  and 
waiting,  perhaps  ;  for  these  —  the  hymn." 

Margaret  got  up  and  gathered  her  shawl  about  her  to  go 
down.  "  Good-night,  Miss  Kirkbright,  and  thank  you,"  she 
said,  as  she  gave  Miss  Euphrasia  her  hand.  "  You  have  given 
me  something  to  keep.  I  shall  keep  it." 

Miss  Euphrasia  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her. 

We  met  General  Rushleigh  at  the  companion  way.  I  think  he 
had  been  watching  for  us.  He  took  all  our  wraps  over  his  arms, 
and  helped  us  down  the  two  little  steep  stairways,  and  went 
with  us  to  our  state-room  doors.  I  stood  in  the  entry  of  the 
lower  ladies'  cabin  while  he  went  with  Margaret  first,  and  gave 
up  her  things  to  her,  and  then  rejoined  me  with  mine.  We 
crossed  through  the  little  saloon  to  my  side  of  the  ship. 

"  I  leave  you  at  Queenstown,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  miss  these 
days  and  evenings.  We  may  meet  in  Switzerland,  perhaps. 
May  I  look  for  you  a  little,  if  I  find  myself  in  the  way  ?  Would 
you  trust  me  with  your  banking  address  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  '  Hoirs  Sigismond  Marcel,  Lausanne,'  for  the  sum 
mer.  Later,  when  we  go  into  Italy,  we  shall  change  it." 

"  Thank  you.  Good-night.  It  will  be  pleasant  to  think  I 
have  the  clew." 

And  he  left  me  feeling  as  if  I  had  had  the  special  part  of  the 
good-night,  which  my  old  maidenhood  purchased  for  me,  and 
which  he  had  not  felt  quite  free  to  give  to  Margaret  Regis  ;  or 
perhaps  even  to  her  elegant  and  still  fascinating  step-mother. 
I  believe,  after  all,  it  is  better  to  be  treated  like  a  friend,  than 
to  fascinate. 

I  was  quite  sure,  though,  it  was  not  for  me  —  to  keep ;  neither 
was  it  for  my  gay,  sweet,  child  Edith.  She  is  taking  her  youth 


80  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

as  so  few  girls  take  it ;  as  if  it  were  meant  to  be  something  in 
itself.  She  has  always  been  so ;  as  school-girl,  and  girl  just  out 
from  school,  in  that  second  lovely  relation  with  her  home  ;  with 
father  and  mother,  with  brothers  and  sister,  and  young  friends  ; 
with  her  old  auntie,  even  ;  with  her  books,  her  frolics,  her  music, 
her  journeys,  her  daily  sunshine.  There  is  not  much  to  tell  of 
her ;  she  is  not  one  to  whom  things  are  in  a  hurry  to  happen  ; 
she  just  goes  along,  as  the  springtime  does,  which  will  be  sum 
mer  in  good  time,  but  you  will  hardly  know  just  when ;  and  "t 
is  simply  a  blessing  to  watch  her  as  she  goes. 

The  gulls  were  so  thick  about  the  ship,  all  the  next  morning. 
Another  wonderful,  beautiful  sign  of  the  land  we  come  to. 

The  white,  winged  things  drift  out  from  the  far  horizon  which 
seems  to  our  eyes  far  and  wide  as  ever,  though  we  know  the  shore 
is  there,  and  their  rock-nests.  They  poise  and  hover,  and  sail 
back  and  forth  with  us,  as  we  press  our  heavier  way  through  the 
yet  deep  waters  ;  and  they  bend  above  the  deck,  with  dropped 
wings,  and  eyes  that  look  with  a  soft  eagerness  into  our  own. 
They  are  like  thoughts  sent  forth  to  meet  us,  taking  form  as  we 
come  nearer,  even  as  the  Spirit  itself  once  took  form  as  a  dove. 

Miss  Euphrasia  and  I  watched  them  as  if  they  brought  us 
news  ;  not  of  the  coast  whose  headlands  were  so  near,  but  of  a 
farther.  Not  farther  off,  but  more  hidden  within ;  they  were 
like  apparitions  shining  out  of  the  unsensed,  where  thought 
and  waiting  welcome  intensified  toward  us  until  the  very  wings 
of  their  yearning  flashed  into  light  and  hung  above  us. 

Somebody  near,  not  going  very  deep,  yet  observing  faintly  a 
typing  in  it,  said,  "  how  sweet  it  was,  their  coming  out  to  us 
so  ! "  And  a  voice  replied,  "  They  come  for  the  scraps  the 
stewards  fling  overboard." 

"  Oh,"  cried  the  lady,  "  how  you  spoil  the  poetry !  " 

It  grated  at  first,  that  commonplace  explanation  which 
grudged  the  sign  ;  but  presently  we  did  not  think  it  spoiled  the 
poetry.  We  also  have  something  for  them,  —  why  not  ?  Some 
thing  they  are  eager  for.  They  care  for  even  the  mere  scraps 
we  fling  them  of  the  life  we  scarcely  think  they  have  a  share 
in.  They  want  heart-crumbs  from  us  ;  they  ask  us  to  break 


THE   LONG   SEA-LETTER:    IN  MANY  PARAGRAPHS.        81 

our  bread  with  them.     For  that,  as  well  as  to  telJ  us  that  the 
land  is  near,  they  lean  above  us  with  their  tender  eyes. 

"  Do  you  see  the  land  ?  "  people  asked  each  other  gladly,  re 
peatedly.  One  pointed  it  to  another,  urging,  insisting. 

"  Off  there ;  just  that  blue  haze  on  the  horizon.  Surely  you 
see  ?  " 

"  It  is  like  a  cloud.  I  can  hardly  tell  whether  I  see  anything 
or  not." 

"  For  all  that  it  is  the  Irish  headlands." 

"  I  never  thought  it  would  come  like  that,"  I  said  to  Miss 
Euphrasia.  "  So  fine,  so  misty,  so  purple.  It  is  like  a  shadow, 
or  a  dream." 

They  kept  rising  upon  us  like  that,  all  day ;  faint  points  and 
shapes,  looming  larger,  bluer,  surer,  —  but  always  so  soft,  so 
spiritsome  !  And  the  white  birds  wheeling,  dipping,  hovering, 
moving  to  and  fro,  continually. 

Why  did  nobody  ever  tell  us  what  it  was  like  ?  I  had  sup 
posed  I  should  see  gray  rocks,  and  then  green  land ;  that  we 
should  come  swiftly  upon  something  defined  and  tangible, 
though  at  first  indistinct  with  distance  ;  but  that  this  indistinct 
ness  would  be  so  like  the  reaching  and  glimmering  of  an  in 
ward  vision,  —  that  it  would  wear,  even  as  it  grew  quite  close, 
such  tender  shapes  and  tints  like  twilight  clouds,  —  that  we 
should  come  to  it  as  we  come  dimly  to  dear  things  of  faith, — 
I  had  not  ever  set  before  my  thought. 

When  it  was  only  a  blue  haze,  they  believed ;  because  eyes 
that  knew  had  seen  it ;  and  the  whole  ship-company  was  alive 
and  eager  for  the  land  while  it  was  still  only  a  shadow. 

And  we  ate  and  slept,  and  drew  nearer  and  nearer ;  and  be 
fore  night-fall  of  the  second  day,  we  had  seen  the  cliffs  and  the 
softer  hills  behind  them,  —  the  trees  and  the  moving  cattle,  and 
the  growing  grass ! 

It  was  all  there,  just  as  it  was  at  home.  Out  of  the  ocean 
where  seemed  to  be  nothing,  it  had  arisen,  as  they  told  us  it 
would  ;  and  up  and  down  the  lonely  waves,  in  the  middle  of 
that  unchanging  circle  of  far  skies,  we  had  been  steering  straight 
toward  it  all  the  time. 
6 


82  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

Not  only  that.  We  did  not  come  upon  it  forwardly,  as  just 
to  the  end  where  something  lay  across ;  we  moved  alongside 
it,  hours  and  hours,  by  night  and  morning,  toward  our  harbor  ; 
right  under  the  line  of  its  soft,  dim,  outstretching  strands  ! 

I  had  laid  up  an  expectation  of  comfort  in  the  finding  of  towns, 
and  forests,  and  Alps,  and  human  living,  over  there,  —  after  we 
should  be  there ;  but  the  comfort  of  the  shining  shore  as  we 
sailed  upon  it,  and  the  way  of  its  growing  to  our  eyes  out  of 
the  invisible,  was  a  happy,  wonderful  parable  that  I  did  not 
know  was,  in  all  the  parables  of  this  beautiful  earth. 

It  was  midnight  when  we  came  into  the  harbor  of  Queens- 
town.  Such  a  number  of  passengers  was  to  land  there,  that  a 
great  many  remained  on  deck  to  watch  the  departure,  and  to 
say  good-bye. 

Mrs.  Regis  walked  up  and  down  with  General  Rushleigh 
for  quite  a  little  while,  talking.  Margaret  and  Edith,  and  Mr. 
Armstrong,  and  Miss  Kirkbright  and  I  sat  in  the  little  corner 
behind  the  rail  of  the  companion  way,  watching  the  tug  as  it 
steamed  out  and  made  a  great  sweep  beyond  us,  and  then  came 
round,  —  the  last  thing  it  had  apparently  aimed  at  doing,  — 
along  that  side  of  the  ship. 

There  was  a  bustle  of  making  fast,  and  transferring  mail-bags 
and  luggage,  and  it  was  some  time  yet  before  the  real  final  call 
came  to  the  passengers  for  shore. 

It  was  very  dark ;  only  the  lights  at  our  own  mast-head  and 
upon  the  tug,  and  here  and  there  upon  some  harbor  craft,  glim 
mered  out  their  signals.  It  was  not  a  cheery  landing,  I  thought ; 
I  was  glad  we  were  to  sail  on  to  Liverpool.  I  had  grown  fond 
of  the  Nova  Zembla ;  I  had  no  wish  to  leave  her  until  I  had 
seen  her  voyage  through,  and  she  came  safe  to  her  mooring  in 
the  Mersey.  I  do  not  know  whether  we  shall  have  Ireland  at 
all ;  if  we  should,  I  felt  I  would  rather  take  it  by  and  by,  and 
go  the  whole  sea-way  now,  up  the  Channel,  and  into  the  great 
English  port.  I  had  no  fancy  for  being  dropped  off  by  the  way, 
like  this,  in  the  night. 

"  Then  we  shall  be  sure  to  see  you  again  in  Switzerland,"  I 
heard  Mrs.  Regis  say,  as  she  and  the  General  finally  approached 


THE  LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN    MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        83 

us  for  his  leave-taking.  "We  shall  probably  be  somewhere 
about  the  upper  end  of  the  Geneva  lake  for  several  weeks." 

Mrs.  Armstrong  had  come  up  for  a  few  minutes.  She  rarely 
stopped  late  away  from  her  little  children.  General  Rushleigh 
shook  hands  with  her  and  with  her  husband,  then  with  Miss 
Kirkbright  and  the  rest  of  us. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  all  for  a  most  pleasant  voyage,"  he 
said  ;  "  and  I  am  sorry  that  we  are  not  to  finish  it  together." 

"  I  think  we  are  all  sorry  to  say  good-bye,"  answered  Miss 
Kirkbright. 

Nobody  said  anything  more.  It  was  very  much  like  all  the 
other  words  of  friendship  and  compliment  that  were  passing 
around  us.  Perhaps  the  chief  difference  was  that  there  was  no 
reiteration. 

Mr.  Armstrong  went  down  with  him  to  the  boat,  and  then 
returned  to  us.  Mrs.  Regis  stood  by  the  rail,  her  white  hand 
with  its  shining  rings  showing  in  the  dim  light  as  she  rested 
and  leaned  upon  it,  looking  down  where  General  Rushleigh 
came  and  stood  on  the  low  deck  of  the  tender. 

As  the  boat  began  to  glide  away,  I  saw  a  movement  of  her 
hand,  —  a  half-lifting,  as  if  she  were  going  to  wave  a  farewell, 
and  then  a  quiet  relinquishment  of  it  to  its  place  again.  Not 
the  movement,  but  the  checking  of  it,  struck  me.  Why  should 
she  measure,  or  reconsider  ? 

There  was  a  great  chorus  of  good-byes  from  a  merry,  frolick 
ing  party  near  us,  watching  off  somebody  else.  In  the  midst 
of  it,  I  saw  General  Rushleigh  lift  his  hat,  and  heard  him  say 
quite  strongly  and  clearly,  as  he  looked  up,  while  the  moving 
of  the  boat  brought  his  face  directly  beneath  our  own  faces, 
"  Once  more,  good-bye  !  " 

One  answer  waited  for  a  breath's  space,  while  the  others  were 
spoken  together,  and  then  it  dropped  slowly,  like  a  separate, 
final  echo.  It  was  Margaret's,  who  sat  quietly  beside  me. 

In  the  morning  of  that  day,  —  I  thought  of  it  again  now,  as 
those  good-byes  were  said,  —  we  had  been  in  the  small  upper 
saloon,  enveloping  and  sealing  our  letters  for  this  Queenstown 
mail.  Margaret  had  sat  beside  me,  directing  hers,  in  the  large, 
free,  open  hand  I  like  so  much.  She  laid  them  over,  one  by 


84  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

one,  as  she  finished,  toward  my  side.  Placing  my  own  before 
me  iu  like  manner,  I  could  not  help  catching  at  each  glance  the 
successive  addresses  of  hers.  It  seemed  as  if  she  almost  man 
aged  it  that  I  should.  There  was  one  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Van- 
derhuysen,  one  to  another  lady  in  New  York,  one  to  Flora 
Mackenzie,  Boston,  and,  separate  and  last,  she  laid  down  one 
directed  in  full  to  "Mr.  Harry  Bernard  Mackenzie,  Holworthy 
Hall,  Harvard  College,  Cambridge,  Mass"'."  She  slid  the  lit 
tle  pile  together,  leaving  this  freshly  written  one  on  the  top. 

After  a  time,  Mrs.  Regis  came  in,  to  ask  if  we  had  letters 
ready. 

"  I  just  met  Captain  K ,  and  he  has  taken  mine,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  nearly  finished,"  I  replied.     Margaret  said  nothing. 

Mrs.  Regis  reached  her  hand  toward  Margaret's  letters. 

"  Oh,  you  have  been  writing  to  the  Mackenzies,"  she  re 
marked  quite  carelessly  and  pleasantly. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Margaret,  and  then  laid  her  own  fingers 
upon  her  correspondence. 

"  Never  mind  now,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  bring  them  all  when 
Miss  Strong  has  finished." 

I  was  sure  she  wanted  me  to  be  a  little  longer,  and  so  Ger 
trude  got  another  little  paragraph  to  her  letter,  and  two  or 
three  acquaintances  received  by  name  some  special  messages  of 
remembrance.  I  had  already  closed  the  thick  packet  for  you, 
Rose,  which  gave  you  the  first  half  of  my  long  sea-yarn. 

General  Rushleigh  came  in. 

There  had  been  a  promise  of  a  final  game  of  chess  with  Mar 
garet,  and  I  suppose  she  knew  he  would  soon  come  to  claim  it. 
Mrs.  Regis  still  stood  by  us,  when  he  asked,  as  she  had  done,  if 
we  had  letters  ready. 

"  Miss  Strong  is  just  finishing,"  said  Margaret ;  "  and  then 
we  have  all  these." 

Her  finger-tip,  just  touching  still  the  heap  of  white  inclosures, 
must  have  quite  led  his  eyes  to  the  uppermost  name.  I  en 
veloped  and  addressed  my  last  one,  and  Margaret,  with  a  little 
gesture  of  "  allow  me  ?  "  gathered  them  all  up,  mine  and  hers, 
and  gave  them  to  General  Rushleigh  with  the  letter  to  Harry 
Mackenzie  still  upon  the  top. 


THE  LONG   SEA-LETTER  :    IN   MANY   PARAGRAPHS.        85 

"  I  am  going  for  my  thick  jacket,"  Margaret  said,  rising,  as 
he  went  out.  "  I  will  come  up  on  deck  presently." 

Mrs.  Regis  and  I  were  left  alone,  and  she  just  remarked  to 
me,  "Margaret  is  very  fond  of  the  Mackenzies.  They  have 
been  friends  from  children.  But  I  wish  she  made  less  demon 
stration  of  the  intimacy  as  regards  Harry.  Conclusions  may  be 
drawn  which  will  not  be  justified." 

I  knew  she  wished  that  they  might  not  be,  and  I  had  felt  she 
was  annoyed  at  first  seeing  that  letter  so  frankly,  if  not  pur 
posely,  left  in  sight.  I  wondered  if  she  would  take  the  trouble 
to  say  to  General  Rushleigh  what  she  had  said  to  me.  I  won 
dered  whether,  with  her  great  tact  and  cleverness  at  doing  what 
ever  she  much  wished  in  small  matters,  she  might  not  have 
managed,  in  spite  of  Margaret's  intention,  to  get  between  her 
and  him  in  that  little  passage  of  the  mail  from  hand  to  hand. 

Somehow  all  this  connected  itself  afterward  with  the  manner 
of  the  midnight  parting;  with  the  half-lifting  and  dropping 
again  of  Mrs.  Regis's  white  hand,  and  the  tone  of  Margaret's 
good-bye. 


86  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GATE-WAYS. 


....  AFTER  the  loneliness  of  the  ocean,  how  crowded  and  full 
of  sign  were  the  sparkling  lights  of  the  shipping  and  the  city, 
as  we  came  slowly  up  the  river  to  Liverpool,  twenty-four  hours 
later. 

Steaming  up  the  Channel,  we  had  been  out  of  sight  of  land 
again.  That  had  seemed  strange,  when  we  had  once  had  the 
vision,  and  knew  how  near  we  were.  England  lying  close  upon 
the  right,  and  Ireland  on  the  left,  and  yet  that  round  expanse 
and  empty  horizon,  as  it  had  been  when  we  reckoned  latitude 
and  longitude  in  mid- Atlantic,  fifteen  hundred  miles  away ! 
"  They  're  only  crumbs  and  crusts  in  the  great,  big  porridge- 
bowl,"  said  Emery  Ann,  without  antecedent  or  connection. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Edie,  wonderingly. 

"  Islands,  and  continents."  Emery  Ann  was  still  realizing 
her  geography. 

The  tide  kept  us  below  the  bar.  A  custom-house  officer 
came  on  board  and  took  the  ship  in  charge,  but  there  was  no 
examination  of  luggage,  and  no  landing  of  passengers,  except 
of  a  few  individuals,  by  special  management  and  favor.  The 
prima  donna  went  on  shore,  and  took  the  four  o'clock  train  to 
London ;  so  did  two  or  three  gentlemen  who  had  urgent  busi 
ness.  .  The  rest  of  us  waited  until  morning,  breakfasted  on 
board,  and  then  our  trunks  were  hoisted  up  from  the  hold,  and 
tumbled  up  from  the  state-rooms,  and  we  stood  by,  keys  in 
hand,  for  the  ceremony  of  having  them  "  passed." 

It  was  not  at  all  terrible.  Tobacco,  silver,  books  of  English 
edition,  were  inquired  for,  our  word  taken,  and  our  keys  re 
turned  to  our  pockets ;  we  made  our  first  bargain  with  an  Eng 
lish  cabman,  who  at  the  outset  named  what  we  fancied  rather 


GATE-WAYS.  87 

too  American  a  price,  and  we  appealed  to  a  policeman.  It  was 
settled  for  us,  with  a  warning  to  the  cabby  to  "  look  out ! "  and 
we  were  then  helped  in  with  all  civility,  quite  as  if  we  had  not 
refracted,  and  driven  through  the  long,  closed,  quiet  streets, — 
for  it  was  Sunday  morning,  —  with  their  many  business  signs 
of  thoroughly  English  names,  and  their  old,  solid,  smoky,  Eng 
lish  look,  to  the  North  Western  Hotel. 

Here  we  were  next  door  to  London  ;  at  the  back  gate,  one 
might  say ;  the  rail  path  ran  right  forth  from  our  under  story, 
never  swerving  till  it  ended  at  Euston  Square,  in  the  very  heart 
of  things. 

So  here  we  stopped  to  breathe,  and  to  shake  off  the  ship-diz 
ziness.  "We  must  stay  over  one  day  at  least,  to  repack  our  sea- 
boxes,  and  send  them  down  to  the  Cunard  office  to  wait  there 
till  next  year. 

We  chose  our  rooms  as  if  we  had  been  going  to  live  there 
always.  The  girls  ran  back  and  forth  from  one  to  the  other, 
comparing  and  exulting  over  advantages,  along  wide  passages 
that  looked  magnificent  to  us  after  our  bumpings  to  and  fro  in 
the  dark  little  defiles  between  the  lower  cabins  of  the  Nova 
Zembla. 

"  But  don't  begin  to  malign  the  dear  old  ship  ! "  I  said,  the 
minute  they  triumphed  in  words  over  the  contrast. 

These  girls  were  gay ;  they  were  full  of  the  first  delight  of 
beginning  Europe.  Margaret  took  up  her  brightness  as  if  she 
had  sent  it  forward  to  await  her  here;  there  was  a  determination 
to  have  the  good  time  she  had  come  for. 

She  was  only  a  girl,  after  all ;  the  deeper  questions  might  as 
yet  be  put  by  a  while.  Youth  asserted  itself,  as  the  present  and 
immediate  assert  themselves  with  us  all,  let  our  problems  be 
what  they  may.  It  is  only  in  certain  story-books,  I  think,  and 
in  the  morbidly-concentred  imaginations  which  they  train,  that 
life  runs  all  on  one  thread,  and  if  that  breaks  anywhere  lets  its 
pearls  all  drop  apart  and  scatter  hopelessly.  We  are  not  made 
so  ;  there  is  a  divine  complexity  in  us. 

I  could  plainly  see  one  thing  in  Margaret  Regis ;  she  would 
either  suffer  or  enjoy  with  an  almost  fearful  intensity  when  her 
time  fully  came.  An  instinct  of  this  had  kept,  and  might  still 


88  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

keep  her,  from  accepting  into  her  consciousness  the  possibility 
and  conditions  of  the  one  or  the  other.  She  would  shut  her 
eyes  and  stay  in  the  safety  of  the  commonplace,  even  when  she 
had  already  caught  some  clear,  unwilling  glimpse  of  an  experi 
ence  that  should  grasp  her  whole  being  if  she  yielded  to  it,  and 
involve  her  in  its  grander,  supremer  pain  or  gladness. 

Something  that  she  was  half  afraid  of  in  her  own  nature  had 
perhaps  moved  her  to  refuse  beforehand  a  more  searching  and 
entire  probation,  and  commit  herself  with  a  negative  content. 
She  stood  in  her  life  as  among  splendid,  terrible  wheels,  whose 
force  might  evolve  an  unknown  end  of  beauty,  but  whose  springs 
she  would  not  touch,  nor  let  her  garments  sweep  against  their 
rims,  lest  they  move  to  drag  her  into  their  relentless  whirl  and 
crush  her. 

"We  said  good-bye  to  Miss  Euphrasia  and  the  Armstrongs  on 
Monday  morning. 

Miss  Euphrasia  was  going  to  Manchester,  on  her  way  to 
London.  She  has  a  niece  living  near  the  former  city,  married 
to  an  English  manufacturer,  Mr.  Robert  Truesdaile.  Mr. 
Truesdaile  belongs  to  a  good  old  family  of  gentry,  though  being 
the  younger  son  of  a  younger  son,  who  went  to  America  before 
Robert  was  born,  a  rich  maternal  uncle  has  brought  him  here 
and  adopted  him  into  business,  to  make  of  him,  like  himself,  a 
representative  of  that  fine  middle  class  of  Englishmen,  whose 
grandest  types  are  in  the  grandest  sense  both  born  and  made. 
It  seems  that  his  other  uncle,  the  present  "  Squire  "  Truesdaile, 
married,  as  Miss  Euphrasia  told  me,  "  a  far-away  Scottish 
cousin  "  of  her  own  ;  so  that  there  is  a  double  connection. 

The  Robert  Truesdailes  and  herself  were  to  go  on  at  once  to 
gether,  for  a  prearranged  visit.  Mr.  Truesdaile,  the  Squire,  is 
also  a  clergyman,  and  has  two  parishes,  and  two  curates ;  one  at 
the  family  place  in  the  country,  to  which  they  are  going  down 
in  the  autumn,  and  the  other  in  London,  where,  I  infer  from 
Miss  Kirkbright,  he  is  very  busy  among  the  poor.  She  gave  us 
his  address,  and  bade  us  let  her  know  of  our  arrival. 

The  Armstrongs  had  decided  to  go  directly  up,  and  we  all 
hoped  to  meet  again  at  the  great  focus,  before  we  centrifugated 
off  again  upon  our  diverse  tracks. 


GATE-WAYS.  89 

On  the  Monday  afternoon,  some  other  people  from  the  ship 
who  were  at  the  hotel,  were  wishing  to  make  a  party  to  Ches 
ter.  Mrs.  Regis  and  Margaret  were  going,  and  Edith  came  to 
tell  me  of  the  plan.  She  was  full  of  curiosity  and  pleasure, 
longing  for  her  first  impression  of  an  old-world  city,  which 
everybody  on  the  threshold  of  Europe  goes  to  Chester  for. 

Somehow,  for  that  very  reason,  —  and  because  I  was  so  tired 
with  the  strange  fatigue,  after  the  laziness  of  the  voyage,  which 
comes  over  one  upon  landing,  —  I  did  not  incline  very  instantly 
to  go. 

"  You  can  do  quite  as  you  please,  you  know,  auntie ;  for  I 
can  go  nicely  with  Mrs.  Regis." 

"  Should  you  care,  Emery  Ann  ?  "  I  asked.  "  "Would  you 
like  to  see  the  old  walls,  and  the  deep  streets  cut  out  of  the 
rock  by  the  Romans  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  ain't  very  curious,"  said  Emery  Ann.  "  I  don't 
believe  I  'm  ready  for  Romans.  I  have  n't  got  used  to  the  Eng 
lish,  yet." 

She  sat  by  the  great  square  window  of  our  larger  room,  look 
ing  out  upon  the  front  of  Prince  Albert  Hall  with  its  long  ter 
races  of  steps  and  its  grand  facade,  and  the  equestrian  statues 
of  the  Queen  and  the  Consort  in  bronze,  before  the  gates. 

"  I  'm  watching  those  little  ragged  children  chasing  up  and 
down,  and  dodging  the  policemen." 

"  I  think  I  'm  very  much  of  the  same  mind  with  Emery  Ann," 
I  answered  Edith,  laughing.  "  I  want  to  see  what  comes  along, 
for  a  while,  and  get  used  to  the  feeling  of  England." 

So  we  settled  it,  and  she  ran  away  to  Margaret,  and  her  first 
sight-seeing. 

Emery  Ann  and  I  looked  out  at  the  ragged  children,  and  the 
policemen  in  their  stiff  uniforms  and  stiffer  importance,  dispers 
ing  continually,  one  swarm,  while  another,  —  or  the  same,  re 
formed,  —  gathered  at  their  heels.  The  splendid  stone  flights 
and  platforms  were  only  a  playground  for  a  grand  game  of  "Old 
Man  of  the  Castle,"  for  which  the  cockaded  and  silver-badged 
officials  served  involuntarily  and  unconsciously  as  so  many 
"  Its" 

"  They  might  as  well  try  to  parade  the  flies  out,  "  said  Emery 


90  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Ann.  "  And  flies  do  get  the  freedom  of  most  everything,  though 
they  war  n't  thought  of  in  the  making." 

Then  we  spoke  of  the  simple  bronze  statues  ;  the  slight,  girl 
ish  figure  of  the  Queen  in  her  youth,  with  the  long,  plain  riding- 
dress,  and  her  husband  in  his  uniform,  looking  so  quiet  and  un- 
imposing  in  the  midst  of  the  'great  space  and  before  the  lofty 
pile  of  architecture,  —  yet  august  to  the  feeling,  as  representa 
tives  of  the  personal  Majesty  of  the  Realm. 

"  Just  that  little  woman  at  the  top  of  it  all,"  said  Emery  Ann. 
"  You  can't  seem  to  see  it,  can  you  ?  But  then  you  never  can, 
in  folks.  It's  the  things  that  look  mighty.  And  the  crowds 
that  stand  round  and  call  'em  mighty.  If  it  was  n't  for  all  Eng 
land,  the  Queen  would  n't  be  anything." 

Which  philosophy  of  relativity  was  as  really  Emery  Ann's, 
as  if  nobody  had  ever  discovered  anything  like  it  before. 

Another  of  the  world's  questions  occurred  to  her  presently, 
under  the  same  freshness  of  disguise. 

"  If  a  woman  can  be  a  Queen,  why  can't  she  be  a  Presi 
dent  ?  "  she  said,  problematically. 

"  There  is  a  difference,"  I  suggested.  "  She  must  be  born  to 
be  a  Queen  ;  but  she  must  scramble  to  be  a  President :  at  least, 
until  things  are  quite  otherwise  regulated  than  now." 

"  It  would  n't  be  a  bad  plan  to  have  them  born  ;  if  you  could 
make  'em  up  to  suit  yourselves,  as  the  bees  do,  "said  Emery 
Ann,  solutatively.  "  A  real  Queen- Woman,  —  with  the  horse 
before  the  cart,  you  see,  —  might  be  a  first-rate  idea  over  a 
congress.  A  kind  of  a  national  conscience,  to  clarify  things  ; 
that  they  seem  to  have  most  lost  among  'em,  some  way,  if  they 
ever  had  it.  But  then,  I  suppose  you  could  n't  tell.  A  good 
one  might  run  to  crotchets  —  or  quavers,  for  that  matter  ;  and 
a  bad  one  —  there  !  they  '11  have  to  work  it  out ;  I  can't !  " 


UP   BY  EXPRESS.  91 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

UP  BY  EXPRESS. 


....  WE  stayed  in  Liverpool  three  days  longer.  Mrs.  Regis 
had  more  to  do  than  we,  and  we  waited  her  convenience.  We 
all  bought  new  English  waterproofs,  and  a  few  other  things  that 
we  had  left  for  foreign  purchase.  Edith  and  I  indulged  our 
selves  with  some  delightful  traveling  baskets.  But  we  reserved 
our  more  thorough  shopping  for  London  and  Paris. 

You  know  that,  in  a  general  way,  I  hate  shops.  Christmas 
gifts,  and  choosing  surprises  for  other  people  are  the  only  things 
that  ever  put  any  poetry  into  it ;  so  you  will  not  hear  very 
much  about  it  from  me.  I  will  tell  you  right  here,  however, 
one  conclusion  I  have  arrived  at,  in  case  you  ever  come  abroad 
yourself,  and  need  to  know.  Don't  listen  to  people  who  tell 
you  to  put  off  buying  essentials  until  you  get  here.  You  will 
wish  you  had  paid  the  difference  three  times  over,  and  got  it  off 
your  mind,  to  say  nothing  of  the  flies  and  fiacres  you  will  pay 
for  to  fly  round  in. 

I  had  not  very  much  to  do  myself;  for  someway,  I  can  always 
cut  down  my  list  and  go  without  things  when  I  get  discouraged; 
but  Edie  had  a  long  memorandum  to  check  off  which  her 
mother  had  made  for  her,  under  this  traditional  impression  that 
it  is  a  duty  to  start  as  ill, provided  as  you  know  how  to  be,  and 
to  get  quantities  of  all  sorts  over  here.  I  am  sure  we  have  both 
been  homesick  for  the  old  "  stores  "  right  around  Winter  and 
Summer  streets,  where  we  knew  just  what  counters  to  go  to,  and 
what  salesmen  to  ask,  and  exactly  what  he  ought  to  "  ask  "  us. 
The  delusions  that  shillings  and  sixpences  lead  you  into,  as  you 
first  hear  the  prices  of  things  in  Liverpool  and  London  !  Not  to 
speak  of  the  pound  as  a  unit,  instead  of  the  blessed,  little,  mod 
est,  yet  warily-multiplying  dollar !  I  can  see,  now,  how  our 


92  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

currency  came  of  the  careful  foresight  of  a  prudent  young  people 
with  its  fortune  to  make. 

You  need  to  be  in  Europe  a  year  to  be  able  to  begin  to  buy 
judiciously.  My  advice  to  any  one  coming  is,  —  bring  every 
thing  needful  and  comfortable  :  nothing  superfluous,  everything 
plain.  Replenish  as  you  wear  out,  and  when  you  are  just  going 
home,  get  what  you  want  for  next  year,  and,  —  best  and  pret 
tiest  buying  of  all,  —  your  little  gifts  for  friends. 

On  the  Thursday  morning,  we  walked  down-stairs  and  took 
our  seats  in  the  express  train  for  London.  How  nice  we 
thought  the  English  first  class  carriage !  We  do  not  mean  to 
travel  first  class  when  we  can  do  otherwise  ;  but  we  had  our 
Cunard  tickets  through  to  Paris,  and  we  could  take  our  enforced 
luxury  with  acquiescent  minds. 

We  had  a  compartment  to  ourselves,  and  as  we  sat  opposite 
to  each  other  in  our  deep-cushioned  corners,  the  large  windows 
giving  us  clear,  broad  views  on  either  hand,  we  looked  at  each 
other  and  out  at  the  new  country,  of  which  a  whole  day's  pan 
orama  was  to  unroll  itself  for  our  enjoying,  with  the  beatitude 
of  children  in  the  best  places  at  the  show. 

The  porter  told  us,  with  a  touch  of  his  hat,  which  meant  half 
a  crown,  that  our  luggage  was  in  the  forward  van.  What  se 
cured  it  to  us  on  our  arrival  in  London,  we  could  not  conceive, 
for  they  give  you  no  checks,  they  only  tell  you  it  is  all  right, 
and  when  you  get  there  you  find  it  is.  There  must  be  some 
system,  and  some  check  unseen,  but  what  and  how,  remains  a 
beautiful  mystery,  like  the  mystery  of  imponderable  force. 

How  we  gazed  as  we  flew  along  !  And  what  a  newness  we 
saw  in  everything  !  A  newness  of  oldness  ;  there  was  nothing 
raw-edged  ;  nothing  unmellowed;  nothing  unadjusted,  unutil- 
.zod.  There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  dust,  any  scraps  even,  any 
where.  All  was  finished  and  cleared  up.  England,  it  appeared, 
had  nothing  to  do,  now,  through  the  centuries,  but  to  live  along 
in  her  dwelling  that  she  has  builded.  The  very  brick  walls, 
and  the  backs  of  the  old  suburban  houses,  were  in  charming 
tints  of  crimson  and  black  and  gray  and  umber  and  tawny,  as 


UP   BY   EXPRESS.  93 

time  and  the  island  atmosphere  had  colored  them;  there  was 
not  a  crude,  new-baked  red  among  them  all. 

Over  these  rich,  mingling  blending  shades  ran  the  climbing, 
spreading,  live  glory  of  dark  green  ivy. 

"  Just  think,"  Emery  Ann  said,  —  "  English  ivy  ;  that  we 
tend  in  pots  so  !  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Edith,  laughing,  "  for  here  we  are ! " 

"  I  know,"  said  Emery  Ann.  "But  I  was  kind  of  thinking 
from  over  our  way." 

As  the  day  grew  on,  we  ran  up  into  the  lovely  midland 
counties.  Away  from  towns,  the  rail  stretched  through  quiet 
meadows,  skirted  beautiful  woods,  touched  the  edges  and  lay 
along  under  the  walls  of  fine  old  manor  places  and  parks,  where 
in  some  stately  distance  we  could  catch  sight  now  and  then  of 
chimneys  and  gables  that  told  of  the  home  mansions,  such  as  we 
have  read  of  in  bewitching  English  stories.  Now  and  again, 
the  girls  gave  a  little  shout,  as  real  old  castle  towers  revealed 
themselves  against  a  wooded  hillside,  or  upon  the  blue  of  the  sky. 

Still  everything  so  perfect,  so  arranged ;  not  a  rough  stone, 
or  a  stray  sod,  it  seemed,  anywhere ;  the  tiniest  cottages,  so 
tidy,  —  so  "  redd  up,"  as  the  Irish  say.  Everything  mellowed  and 
smoothed  and  toned  ;  no  rawness,  or  straggledness.  I  knew  we 
were  traversing  the  heart  and  "garden  of  England,  the  garden 
country  of  Europe ;  I  knew  that  there  are  places  where  misery 
and  squalidness  reveal  themselves ;  but  I  felt  as  Edith  said,  — 
"  I  'd  as  lief  be  poor  as  rich,  here  ;  the  money  is  all  spent  for 
you,  and  the  perfectness  put  everywhere."  It  seemed  as  if  the 
haymakers  in  the  field  were  like  dwellers  in  a  palace. 

I  thought  as  the  swift  train  rushed  smoothly  onward,  — 
This  is  what  it  has  come  to  in  a  dozen  centuries  or  so,  of  mere 
human  outside  improvement,  —  broken,  as  all  human  growth  is 
broken,  by  tumults  and  oppressions,  resistances  and  crimes  and 
mistakes.  What  will  it  be  in  the  Kingdom,  when  the  Son  shall 
come  to  his  own  again,  and  we  shall  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  forever  ?  This,  in  the  material,  is  what  human  living 
tends  to  ;  how  surely  then  may  we  trust  the  Divine  to  complete 
itself?  "  Fear  not,  little  flock  ;"  it  is  your  Father's  good  pleas 
ure  to  give  you  all  his  glory ! 


94  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

The  great  Euston  Square  Station  seemed  big  enough,  and 
tumultuous  enough,  to  be  London  itself.  Carriages  drove  in 
under  its  arcades  ;  the  echoes  of  wheels  and  voices  and  the  noise 
of  unlading  rung  about  us  in  the  vast  roofed  space  like  the  din 
of  a  battle  ;  to  look  for  any  one  in  the  thronging  groups,  —  or 
groups  of  throngs,  —  might  be  like  searching  with  a  telescope 
along  the  Milky  Way.  With  great  presence  of  mind  we  remem 
bered  what  the  Liverpool  porter  had  told  us  about  the  van,  and 
we  made  straight  for  the  point  where  we  might  expect  to  regain 
sight  of  our  luggage.  This  was  what  concerned  us ;  the  rest 
took  care  of  itself.  The  clew  to  all  snarls,  and  the  escape  from 
all  confusions,  is  the  same ;  the  reminder  and  application  come 
with  every  glimpse  we  get  of  a  bigger  piece  of  the  world  and  its 
ways  than  usual. 

In  ten  minutes  we  had  made  our  bargain  with  a  civil  cabman 
and  his  colleague,  and  in  and  upon  the  two  vehicles  ourselves 
and  our  impedimenta  were  bestowed,  and  we  were  rattling  away 
from  the  already  thinning  pavements  and  platforms,  and  out  of 
the  subsiding  roar,  down  George  Street  and  along  the  Eastern 
Road. 

Miss  Kirkbright  had  given  us  some  nice  references  for  London 
lodgings,  and  we  had  telegraphed  from  Liverpool  and  secured 
rooms  at  Mrs.  Blissett's,  out  tbward  Kensington ;  so  we  had 
quite  a  bit  of  a  West  End  drive  to  get  there. 

How  pleased  we  were  with  the  names  of  streets  and  squares, 
roads  and  crescents,  familiar  to  our  novel-reading !  Marylebone 
and  Hampstead,  and  Tottenham  Court  Roads,  Park  Crescent 
and  Portland  Place,  Upper  Baker,  and  Upper  George,  and 
Upper  York  streets,  Berkeley  Street,  and  Portman  Square,  and 
Oxford  Street ;  at  last  into  great  gates,  and  along  green,  shaded 
avenues,  across  a  corner  of  Hyde  Park  itself! 

It  was  just  after  the  fashionable  hour  of  driving  ;  cabs  are 
allowed  a  certain  license  then  ;  and  we  caught  sight  of  drifting 
fragments  of  aristocratic  splendor  as  one  gets  scraps  of  sunset  in 
.ate,  marginal  clouds.  Or,  as  Edith  said,  as  you  get  in  among 
the  asteroids  in  the  edge  of  the  November  drift.  Equestrians, 
especially,  were  returning  from  the  Row,  and  gentlemen  in 
private  cabriolets  were  driving  by,  with  little  breeched  and 


UP   BY   EXPRESS.  95 

beavered  and  cockaded  tigers,  their  small  arms  folded  tightly 
across  their  chests  to  hold  in  their  big  importance. 

Something  began  to  puzzle  me  presently.  Nobody  really 
stared ;  but  I  was  conscious  that  we  were  glanced  at.  Eyes 
scanned  swiftly  the  windows  of  our  humble  conveyances,  and 
were  lifted  to  the  laden  roofs.  I  could  not  suppose  that  simple 
travelers  and  their  luggage  were  of  noticeable  interest  to  these 
great  world  people,  even  when  pretty  American  faces  beamed 
from  within  a  railway  cab,  and  the  unmistakable  "  Boston,  U.  S. 
A."  was  ticketed  atop. 

I  wondered  if  we  were  staring  conspicuously ;  at  last,  when  a 
gentleman,  whose  wheels  passed  our  own  very  closely,  really 
leaned  involuntarily  forward  for  an  instant,  and  drew  quickly 
back  as  he  met  my  eyes,  I  felt  annoyed,  and  admonished  Edith 
to  sit  farther  out  of  sight. 

But  we  forgot  it  all  as  we  caught  sight  of  the  sumptuously 
delicate  Albert  Memorial,  lifting  its  white  pinnacles  and  sculpt 
ures  out  of  green  shadows  against  blue  sky ;  and  passed  out  at 
the  QueeVs  Gate  into  Kensington  Road,  in  face  of  the  grander 
structure  of  the  new,  magnificent  Albert  Hall.  Ah,  me !  A 
queen  can  raise  a  poem  of  marble  and  gold,  and  build  a  hall 
to  fill  with  glorious  music,  in  memory  of  her  beloved;  but  she 
cannot  go  away  into  the  hush  she  craves,  and  sit  in  the  sweet 
twilight  of  her  own  remembrance,  and  keep  the  quiet  widow's 
garments  on,  and  let  the  years  grow  holier  as  they  run  toward 
the  end  of  her  waiting,  as  other  widowed  women  may  !  Yet 
one  thrills  to  think  that  though  it  demand  impatiently  its  Sov 
ereign,  and  her  robes  and  pomp  again,  her  people  never  can  for 
get,  —  and  these  monuments  stand  forth  to  say  so,  —  how  she 
has  been  a  very  woman  with  a  woman's  heart  among  them,  and 
how  the  grief  that  falls  on  common  homes  has  anointed  her  in 
her  palace  also,  to  make  her  more  sacredly  their  own  than  any 
coronation  oil ! 


96  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SHOPS,  OR  SHRINES  ? 


....  WE  five  had  two  whole  floors  at  Mrs.  Blissett's.  Our 
parlor  looked  out  with  three  windows  upon  a  shaded  crescent ; 
at  the  back  were  wide  gardens  such  as  we  had  never  dreamed  to 
find  in  London. 

There  was  a  table  ready  when  we  arrived,  with  tea  and  bis 
cuit,  and  cold  chicken ;  and  a  dish  full  of  such  wonderful  straw 
berries  as  we  had  never  seen  before  except  in  Horticultural 
Shows,  or  in  two  round  rings  on  the  tops  of  fancy-price  boxes. 
We  had  to  cut  them  up  to  eat  them.  Emery  Ann  said  it  was 
the  way  with  all  the  rest  of  it ;  we  should  find  we  could  n't  take 
anything  at  a  mouthful. 

We  went  to  sleep,  in  broad,  delightful  English  beds,  thinking 
of  a  great  feast  spread  out  all  around  us,  and  that  to-morrow  we 
should  begin  to  cut  up  London. 

Not  that  we  should  cut  it  up  at  all  small,  this  time,  or  even 
get  a  really  fair  taste  of  it ;  we  were  in  a  hurry  for  Switzerland 
before  the  season  should  be  too  far  gone.  We  only  meant  to 
stop  in  London  long  enough  to  buy  basket  trunks  and  some 
other  indispensable  things,  get  a  little  rested,  and  see  Westmin 
ster  Abbey,  for  fear  we  should  not  live  to  come  back.  Since 
we  had  known  Miss  Euphrasia  Kirkbright,  I  had  felt  much  the 
same  about  seeing  all  we  could  of  her. 

Should  it  be  the  Abbey,  or  the  Edgeware  Road  ?  Should  we 
get  our  errands  done,  and  then  go  with  clear  brains  and  con 
sciences,  and  serene  imaginations  into  that  dim,  silent  Heart  of 
the  old  Past,  which  it  was  so  strange  to  think  we  could  step 
into,  right  off  the  busy,  crowding,  whirling  streets,  —  right  out 
of  a  modern  cab  into  doors  through  which  kings,  for  long  ages 


SHOPS,   OR   SHRINES?  97 

witless  of  our  age's  cheap  multiplied  facilities,  entered  to  be 
crowned,  and  were  borne  to  be  buried  ?  We  wondered  if  it 
would  seem  solemnly  separate  to  us,  as  it  had  used  to  seem  to 
our  thought,  —  now  that  we  knew  how  easy  it  is  for  any  and 
everybody  to  trip  across  the  Atlantic  and  run  in  ? 

The  questions  came  up  at  the  breakfast-table,  where  we  were 
also  reminded  that  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy  was 
open,  and  that  one  of  our  days  must  be  given  to  that. 

"  Could  n't  we  do  both  to-day  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Regis. 

"  "Westminster  Abbey  and  —  anything  else  ! "  I  exclaimed,  in 
voluntarily. 

Mrs.  Regis  smiled. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  expect  to  economize  a  year  in  Eu 
rope  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  think  you  '11  find  you  '11  need  the  '  cycle 
of  Cathay.' " 

"And  I  think  it  would  be  a  better  thing,"  I  said;  "if  we  must 
make  mince-meat  of  Europe  to  get  it  all  into  one  little  indigesti 
ble  pie.  I  am  going  to  try  to  enjoy  each  separate  doing,  as  if 
it  were  the  one  single  thing  I  had  come  for.  I  would  rather 
wait  a  week  between,  than  put  two  together  that  don't  belong, 
or  that  rub  each  other  out." 

Was  it  very  rude  of  me  ?  I  don't  think  I  made  it  sound  so. 
We  decided  upon  Westminster  Abbey. 

The  girls  got  out  the  map  of  London,  and  chose  the  way  we 
would  take. 

"  You  won't  mind  driving  by  Buckingham  Palace  the  same 
day,  will  you,  auntie  ?  "  said  Edith,  saucily. 

"  We  can't  help  driving  by  things,"  I  answered. 

"  Then  we  '11  go  by  as  many  as  we  can,"  she  returned,  and  I 
only  stipulated  that  she  should  not  take  us  round  by  Greenwich 
Hospital  and  the  Crystal  Palace. 

We  drove  over  Constitution  Hill,  between  Green  Park  and 
the  Palace  Gardens,  and  down  into  the  Mall,  and  around  Saint 
James's  Park ;  and  we  thought  we  had  seen  residences  more  de 
lightful  than  the  Queen's  town-house  looked  to  be,  and  were 
partly  disappointed,  I  suppose,  because  we  could  not  detect  the 
subtle  difference  between  the  stone  and  mortar  that  shelters 
royalty,  and  that  put  together  for  other  and  freer  dwellers ;  also, 
7 


98  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

I  think  I  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  too  absurd  to  define,  that 
she  never  sat  with  her  work  at  the  windows,  or  stepped  care 
lessly  in  and  out  of  the  doors  before  the  breakfast-bell  rang ; 
and  if  not,  how  queer  it  must  be,  and  what  were  windows  and 
doors  in  a  palace  made  for? 

The  low,  long  ranges  of  the  buildings  at  Whitehall,  —  the 
arched  entrance  of  the  Horse  Guards,  with  the  two  immovable 
beasts  and  striders,  on  sentinel  duty ;  then  the  showy  and  glit 
tering  architecture  of  the  new  Houses  of  Parliament ;  and  then 
turning  aside  from  these  last,  the  dark-browed,  solemn  Abbey 
—  this  was  the  way  we  came  to  it. 

I  cannot  take  you  in,  Rose,  if  I  try  to.  I  could  not  take  my 
self  in  !  I  was  there,  and  I  was  not  there ;  just  as  we  are  in 
the  midst  of  Almightiness,  and  we  know  it,  and  yet  know  it 
not. 

Arches  beyond  arches,  opening  through  and  through,  crossing 
and  interlacing  above  ;  crowding  chapels  and  shrines ;  pillars 
and  galleries  exquisite  in  far  distance  with  groinings  and  fret 
work;  old,  worn,  massive  thresholds,  and  door-posts,  and  lin 
tels  ;  pavements  uneven,  yet  smooth,  with  the  tread  of  centuries; 
hushed  chambers  and  crypts,  where  still,  strange  effigies  lay ; 
long,  aisled  chapels,  rich  with  carving,  and  marble,  and  stained 
glass,  —  hung  with  old  banners,  and  silent  like  the  buried  years ; 
names  of  kings,  and  queens,  and  heroes ;  weird  symbolic  de 
vices, —  Edith  stopped  aghast  before  one  of  a  husband  leaning 
over  his  dying  wife,  while  from  the  door  of  a  sepulchre  beneath, 
the  skeleton  Death  starts  forth  and  aims  his  javelin  upward,  — 
inscriptions  of  love  and  honor,  adornments  of  gold  and  brass, 
engraven  and  sculptured  escutcheons,  trophies  and  relics  of 
arms, —  a  world  like  this,  lying  shut  away  within  the  noise  and 
stir  of  the  every-day  world  of  the  living,  —  the  memory  of  a  na 
tion  hidden  in  a  heart-stillness  behind  its  present,  as  every 
separate  human  memory  is  hidden  ;  —  it  was  in  this  we  strayed 
and  lost  ourselves,  and  wondered,  and  came  surprised  upon 
things  we  had  not  known  how  to  look  for,  and  missed  the  things 
we  thought  we  did  ;  and  it  is  in  this  gray  mist  of  a  grand,  be 
wildered  vision,  that  I  grasp  at  shapes  and  parts  to  try  and  tell 
of  them  again  to  you. 


SHOPS,    OR  SHRINES  !  99 

We  climbed  the  narrow,  twisting  stairway  to  the  Chapel  of 
Edward  the  Confessor ;  we  stood  before  the  quaint,  grim  Coro 
nation  Chairs,  one  of  which  incloses  the  Stone  of  Scone ;  we 
looked  up  above  them  to  the  sword  and  shield  of  Edward 
Third,  —  the  sword  seven  feet  long;  we  saw  the  legend  on  the 
screen,  —  of  Saint  John,  and  the  king,  and  the  ring,  and  the  pil 
grims,  and  I  thought  of  the  circle  that  all  acts  run  round  in,  and 
so  of  the  way  a  ring  comes  to  be  a  faith  and  service  token,  — 
since  every  doing  is  an  unconscious  pledge,  of  which  the  sign 
conies  back  and  is  redeemed  at  last.  And  we  remembered  that 
the  royal  dust  that  lay  hidden  about  us  in  the  antique  chamber, 
was  the  dust  of  five,  and  six,  and  eight  centuries  ago,  —  and 
that  we,  standing  there,  had  brought  in,  on  feet  and  garments, 
the  dust  of  eighteen  hundred  and  seventy-three.  It  gives  one's 
breath  a  gasp,  and  one's  brain  a  whirl,  to  put  the  two  together, 
and  to  fetch  one's  self  back  to  the  consciousness  of  which  world 
of  the  two  one  really  belongs  in. 

We  went  into  the  magnificent  chapel  of  Henry  Seventh, 
through  the  wrought  brass  gates.  The  marvelous  carvings  of 
stalls  and  wainscots  and  canopies,  the  overhanging  banners,  the 
walls  with  statues  of  saints  and  martyrs,  the  high,  intricate  groin- 
ings  overhead  dropping  to  long,  slender  points  like  stalactites, 
the  dim,  rich  light  through  painted  glass,  —  oh,  Rose !  I  am 
falling  into  what  I  said  I  would  not,  —  a  sightseer's  recapitula 
tion.  Yet  what  can  one  do  but  capitulate,  and  recapitulate  ? 

It  came  over  me  here,  on  this  first  threshold  of  wonders,  — 
what  I  have  thought  and  known  beforehand,  —  how  impossible 
it  is  to  really  see  it  all,  in  the  sense  of  grasping  and  taking  in. 
It  has  to  be  done  in  strata,  as  the  geologists  take  the  rich  old 
story  of  the  earth  ;  you  can  no  more  enter  into  the  detail,  ami. 
appropriate  the  separate  meaning  and  impression,  than  you  can 
unravel  the  primeval  periods,  and  make  the  swarming  life  that 
was  lived  in  them  individual  and  distinct  to  your  imagination. 
And  after  all,  that  is  why  we  are  kept  graciously,  for  the  most 
part,  in  our  own  place,  and  have  not  been  given  wings.  And  it 
is  by  being  kept  so,  for  long  times  together,  that  men  have  made 
a  history  upon  the  earth.  Fpr  if  the  corals  had  been  swift- 
moving  things  trying  all  ocean  depths  and  places,  and  getting 


100  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

their  living  far  and  wide,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  reefs  and  islands 
would  not  have  been  built  up.  This  is  a  drifting  and  a  flitting 
age  ;  but  much  will  have  to  settle  down  again,  even  if  it  should 
be  by  the  dropping  out  of  some  of  our  knowledges.  The  Lord 
will  not  let  his  work  stand  still  or  snarl  up,  by  his  separate 
weavers  leaving  their  little  threads  and  spindles,  or  dragging 
them  heedlessly  about,  as  they  run  hither  and  thither,  just  to  see 
what  the  whole,  as  far  as  it  has  gone,  looks  like. 

I  will  tell  you  just  three  little  things,  and  then  leave  off. 

We  found  the  North  Aisle,  and  the  tomb  of  Elizabeth  and 
Mary.  While  I  stood  looking  at  the  splendid  monument  of  the 
queen  sisters,  Emery  Ann  went  down  to  the  far  end,  where  is 
the  altar  above  the  remains  of  the  murdered  princes,  Edward 
Fifth  and  the  Duke  of  York.  I  thought  it  was  that  she  was 
gone  to  see ;  but  it  seems  she  knew  nothing  about  it,  and  I 
found  her  standing  over  the  little  effigy  of  a  baby  princess,  ly 
ing  in  a  cradle,  with  the  record  of  its  three  days'  life  upon  the 
stone. 

"  They  lost  their  little  babies,  out  of  their  cradles,  just  as 
common  folks  do  now !  "  she  said,  tenderly.  "  It  seems  realer 
than  all  the  crowns,  a  hundred  times  !  " 

Afterward,  we  crossed  to  the  South  Aisle,  and  went  in  where 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots  lies  sculptured  in  white  marble,  —  turned 
to  a  pale  amber  with  age,  —  beneath  the  softly  stealing  light  of 
two  high  windows. 

I  sat  down  on  a  bench,  opposite  the  light,  which  shone  faintly 
through  the  chiseled  features. 

Two  little  street-children,  as  they  seemed,  had  wandered  in, 
and  came  and  stood  there,  close  between  me  and  the  tomb,  and 
gazed  up  at  the  marble  lady. 

"  My  !  ain't  she  pretty  ?  "  said  one,  with  hands  folded  before 
her,  and  her  voice  hushed  down. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  shaking  his  head  slowly  and  wisely. 
"  But  she  's  been  —  dead  —  a  long  time  !  " 

Last  of  all,  we  got  into  the  Poet's  Corner. 

Somehow,  it  looked  more  open  arid  plain,  —  less  sweetly 
secluded,  less  of  a  nook,  —  than  J  had  imagined  it.  As  we  all 
stood  on  the  broad  pavement,  glancing  around  for  the  names 


SHOPS,   OR  SHRINES?  101 

that  make  it  beautiful  and  separate,  Edith  said,  in  her  quiet 
way :  — 

"  Poet's  Corner  is  n't  just  what  I  thought  it  would  be,  auntie. 
Is  it  to  you  ?  " 

And  Emery  Ann,  who  knows  so  precious  little  about  poetry, 
as  a  name,  that  she  does  not  recognize  that  which  she  makes  in 
her  own  homely  speech,  said  briskly :  — 

"  I  suppose  it  is  n't  the  Corner,  after  all.     It 's  the  poets." 

"Was  n't  that  nice  ? 

When  we  reached  home,  we  found  two  cards  and  a  note  upon 
our  table. 

The  names  were  "  Miss  Kirkbright,"  and  "  Lady  Christian 
Truesdaile."  The  note  was  to  me  from  Miss  Euphrasia. 

"  I  write,"  she  said,  "  in  case,  as  is  so  likely,  that  we  should 
not  find  you.  We  wish  to  see  you  very  much ;  and  my 
cousin,  Lady  Christian,  begs  you  will,  if  possible,  arrange  to 
drive  out  here  to-morrow,  for  afternoon  tea.  The  place  is  not 
quite  easy  to  find,  so  I  shall  come  in  for  you  at  four  o'clock,  if 
I  do  not  hear  otherwise  from  you  in  the  morning.  We  hope 
to  see  you  all :  Mrs.  and  Miss  Regis,  Miss  Tudor,  and  Edith, 
— who  I  hope  will  let  me  call  her  so ;  and  that  this  will  be 
only  a  beginning  of  our  being  much  together.  You  will  only 
need  one  fly,  for  coming  or  returning,  as  Mr.  Robert  Truesdaile 
has  a  dinner  engagement  in  town,  and  the  carriage  will  be  sent 
in  for  him  at  ten  o'clock.  Our  own  dinner  —  or  rather  supper, 
for  we  have  Scotch  names  and  fashions  for  many  things  —  will 
be  quite  quiet  and  plain  ;  we  mean  to  make  less  guests  than 
friends  of  you.  With  love,  EUPHKASIA  KIRKBRIGHT." 

Was  n't  this  lovely  ?  And  how  had  she  known  that  we  had 
come? 

And  so,  the  "  far-away  Scottish  cousin  "  was  a  ladyship  !  I 
will  just  mention  here,  —  for  we  goon  ceased  to  think  of  it  as  of 
consequence,  when  we  came  to  know  the  woman,  —  that  she 
was  Lady  Christian  Shawe,  Lord  Bervie's  daughter.  How  many 
American  women,  I  wonder,  would  have  talked  to  us  of  her 
friends  as  Miss  Euphrasia  had  done,  and  never  once  let  the  title 
slip  into  the  mention  ? 


102  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

Mrs.  Regis  had  made  another  engagement  for  herself  and 
Margaret.  I  think  Margaret  was  sorry  ;  but  I  am  pretty  sure 
that  Mrs.  Regis  would  have  been  just  a  little  unwilling  to  sail 
too  readily  into  intimacy  with  a  Lady  Christian,  under  convoy 
of  me,  Patience  Strong.  She  had  not  drawn  much  to  Miss 
Euphrasia  on  board  ship ;  and  perhaps  it  was  quite  becoming  of 
her  not  to  be  too  eager  now. 


IN   LADY   CHPISTIAN'S   GARDEN.  103 


CHAPTER  X. 
IN  LADY  CHRISTIAN'S  GARDEN. 


....  WE  used  the  first  half  of  the  broken  day  to  do  our 
errands  in  the  Pklgeware  Road.  We  went  in  by  the  under 
ground  railway,  found  an  omnibus  at  the  corner  where  we  were 
told,  and  were  set  down  at  the  trunk-dealer's,  where  Edith  and 
I  bought  each  one  of  those  large,  light,  elastic,  canvas-covered 
basket-trunks  that  we  coveted,  to  replace  the  heavy,  iron- 
banded,  zinc-bottomed,  batten-roofed  American  boxes,  whose 
very  strength  is  their  fragility  in  the  remorseless  hands  of 
American  baggage-heavers. 

We  walked  about  a  little,  —  not  too  long,  for  we  were  on  our 
guard  not  to  put  our  whole  day's  strength  into  our  forenoon,  — 
before  we  took  the  return-omnibus  to  the  station  corner,  and 
were  steamed  through  the  great  Metropolitan  Burrow  around 
again  to  our  Kensington  lodgings.  The  shops  and  the  people 
amused  and  interested  us.  The  "  getting  used  to  being  in  Eng 
land  "  was  enough  in  itself  to  fall  back  upon  in  the  intervals  of 
more  definite  purpose. 

We  came  upon  some  little  street-children  again,  who  gave  us 
the  point  of  the  morning's  sensation  in  a  specimen  of  English 
street-grammar. 

They  were  playing  about,  a  group  of  them,  bareheaded,  un 
tidy,  and  happy,  when  a  rather  fiercely  busy-looking  woman, 
equally  untidy,  and  far  less  happy,  put  her  head  out  at  a  door 
way  and  screamed  a  summons  to  the  "  young  'uns." 

It  was  a  crowded  thoroughfare,  and  there  were  other  young 
ones.  Those  near  us,  whom  we  imagined  were  addressed,  and 
among  whom  perhaps  the  woman  took  it  for  granted  her  own 
strays  were,  paid  no  heed.  One  of  them,  in  a  hunt-the-squirrel 


104  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

chase  among  the  quieter  pedestrians  after  a  companion,  tumbled 
up,  or  all  around,  against  poor  Emery  Ann,  who  extricated  her 
self  with  many  collisions  and  dodges,  and  then  remarked  admon- 
ishingly,  "  Your  mother  's  calling  you.' 

A  bold,  saucy,  merry  little  face,  the  eyes  shining  out  between 
wild  elf-locks,  turned  itself  up  at  hers,  and  a  voice  which  was 
the  translation  of  the  look  into  tone,  uttered  triumphantly  this 
remarkable  distich :  — 

"  Her  ain't  a  call  in'  we  !     Us  don't  belong  to  she  !  " 

Which  has  taken  its  place  'with  us,  ever  since,  among  Fa 
miliar  Quotations,  and  become  a  typical  aphorism. 

We  found  letters  from  home  when  we  came  back  to  lunch ; 
letters,  that  not  giving  their  experience  across  the  ocean  as  we 
have  done,  were  only  the  record  of  a  few  days  after  our  depart 
ure  ;  as  many  as  we  had  now  spent  in  England.  How  odd  it 
seemed  that  there  was  so  little  to  tell!  And  how  dear  and 
delightful  that  the  little  had  come  ! 

I  should  have  supposed  that  you  could  not  have  asked  me  a 
question,  Rose,  about  voyage  or  anything,  that  the  many  pages 
I  have  dispatched  would  not  be  bearing  an  answer  to  ;  and  I 
laughed  so  to  find  the  two  things  demanded  which  I  had  not 
thought  to  tell  of,  and  which  seemed  so  far  back,  now,  to  rec 
ollect,  "  whether  we  did  put  half  our  wardrobe  through  the 
port-holes,"  and  "  what  became  of  the  popped  corn ! " 

My  dear,  if  the  port-holes  were  what  we  gave  the  name  to,  — 
the  little  round  windows  in  our  state-rooms,  —  they  were  hardly 
ever  left  open,  all  the  way ;  and  the  popped-corn  bag  was 
popped  under  the  berth  in  a  corner,  that  first  miserable  night, 
and  never  thought  of  or  discovered  until,  crushed  with  tumbling 
among  other  movables,  and  shrunken  with  sea-damp,  it  puzzled 
us  to  remember  and  identify  it  when  we  dragged  it  forth  in  the 
general  investigation  the  day  before  we  landed.  The  steward 
carried  it  off  and  I  suppose  the  sea-mews  and  the  fishes  got  it ; 
but  I  have  conscientious  doubts  whether  it  agreed  with  them ; 
and  I  hope  the  bundle  of  cast-off  garments  that  we  left  tidily 
pinned  together  and  begged  Mrs.  Pride  to  dispose  of,  may  have 
lone  some  brief  and  better  service.  I  have  lost  faith  in  private 
sea-stores,  and  in  the  handiness  of  port-holes. 


IN   LADY   CHRISTIAN'S   GARDEN.  105 

Edith  and  Emery  Ann  and  I  drove  out  with  Miss  Kirkbright 
in  the  Truesdaile  carriage.  We  passed  high-walled  parks  and 
gates  with  names  of  noble  houses  on  them ;  we  read  also 
hundreds  of  little  fanciful  titles  of  suburban  villas  and  cottages 
and  terraces ;  we  saw  everywhere  that  lovely  adornment  of 
flowers,  in  windows  and  balconies,  —  that  bubbling  up  of  green 
ery  over  garden  walls,  —  which  redeems  and  transfigures  smoky 
London ;  which  was  not  half  so  Smoky  as  we  had  fancied  it, 
and  that  smiled  upon  us  everywhere,  these  bright  July  days, 
with  a  generous  surprise. 

We  turned  down  by  the  river  along  a  shaded  mall,  and 
crossed  a  bridge,  under  whose  arches  boats  and  little  steamers 
were  shooting  gayly  up  and  down,  and  we  came  out  into  quite 
rural  spaces.  We  still  kept  on  by  the  river  side,  with  gardens 
and  houses  all  along  our  left,  and  streets  leading  away  into  more 
thickly-builded  precincts. 

At  last,  before  an  iron  gate  that  opened  upon  a  path  between 
sweet  bits  of  hedge  and  patches  of  blossom,  at  whose  end  a 
flight  of  broad  stone  steps  ran  up  to  a  pleasant  veranda,  look 
ing  down,  as  you  turned,  upon  the  river,  and  a  boat-mooring, 
and  a  water-gate  beneath  old  trees,  —  we  stopped  at  "  The 
Shaws,"  named  partly  for  patronymic,  and  partly  for  winsome 
meaning  of  the  old  Saxon  that  stands  for  "  shade." 

The  doors  stood  open  through  the  hall.  The  rooms  to  right 
and  left  were  breezy  and  bright  with  the  western  sunshine, 
gently  shaded  by  the  nodding  boughs ;  trees  and  vines  showed 
soft,  flickering  motion  and  cool  color  across  the  wide  garden 
egress  at  the  back ;  and  Lady  Christian  herself  came  forward 
from  the  foot  of  the  staircase  to  welcome  us  and  lead  us  in. 

She  took  us  into  a  long  drawing-room  cosy  with  books,  pict 
ures,  music,  —  low  sofas,  and  foot-rugs  upon  the  dark,  inlaid 
^oor,  —  curtains  pushed  back  to  their  utmost  from  a  great  bay 
window  that  looked  down  into  a  garden  full  of  vines  and  ever 
greens  and  tenderer  summer  foliage  whose  groupings  made 
seemingly  endless  avenues  and  glades,  and  hid  away  the  real 
confines  utterly ;  from  among  which,  now,  came  up  the  voices 
of  children  and  the  laugh  of  young  girls. 

"  They  are  all  busy  down  there,"  said  Lady  Christian.     "  We 


106  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

are  getting  ready  for  a  little  fete.  Perhaps  you  may  like  what 
we  will  tell  you  of  it  well  enough  to  come  again  and  make 
part.  Meanwhile,  would  you  keep  your  hats  on,  and  come 
out  ?  We  will  have  tea  there,  if  you  fancy." 

Do  you  want  to  know  what  she  is  like,  to  look  at,  this  Lady 
Christian  ? 

She  is  a  little,  slight  lady,  with  soft,  quick  movements,  and  a 
way  of  vanishing  quietly  like  a  spirit,  and  appearing  noiselessly 
somewhere  else  where  she  is  just  wanted  ;  never  needing  a 
place  made  for  her,  but  gently  gliding  into  one  that  waits ;  she 
has  bright  brown  hair  which  she  pushes  carelessly  from  a  fair, 
low,  even  forehead,  and  gathers  up  behind  in  a  loose,  graceful 
knot ;  and  she  wears  upon  it,  almost  always,  —  not  a  cap,  nor  a 
veil,  —  but  some  white,  light  thing  that  looks  just  flung  on,  now 
of  lace,  now  of  wool,  delicate  and  film-like,  as  she  flits  between 
house  and  garden,  and  needs  less  or  more  of  dainty  covering.  It 
is  never  arranged  ;  sometimes  the  ends  are  just  caught  together 
under  her  chin,  —  sometimes,  with  a  gold  or  coral  pin  thrust 
through  at  the  back,  it  lies  about  her  face  and  throat  making  its 
own  delicate  folds  and  shadows,  changing  with  each  gentle  stir 
and  pose. 

But  you  do  not  see  the  whole  of  Lady  Christian,  as  you  may 
of  some,  by  just  her  height  and  face  and  mould  and  color,  and 
by  the  garments  she  puts  on  outside  of  these ;  subtilely  as  these 
reveal  the  inward  creature,  according  to  the  law  by  which  God 
surely  gives  to  each  seed  its  own  body.  You  want  to  see  the 
raiment  of  her  life  about  her  ;  the  way  she  has  made  the  body 
and  vesture  of  her  home  ;  the  sweet  attitude  in  which  she  stands 
with  husband,  children,  friends ;  the  moral  and  spiritual  group 
ing  ;  and  all  in  the  light  from  that  eastward  quarter  in  Eden, 
which  is  the  shining  of  God's  face  upon  his  heaven.  The  heaven 
that  has  no  other  boundary,  but  lies  here  and  there  in  hearts 
and  households  and  societies,  wherever  the  Kingdom  has  begun 
to  come  among  the  worlds.  As  one  color  shows  upon  the  map, 
in  scattered  fragments,  the  territory  and  dependence  of  a  cen 
tral  realm. 

I  do  not  suppose  I  shall  ever  see  or  know  her  any  more  in 
this  world,  or  that  she  will  have  anything  directly  to  do  with 


IN   LADY    CHRISTIAN'S   GARDEN.  107 

what  you  have  begun  to  be  interested  in  with  me,  of  life  and 
story  that  this  year  may  link  together  ;  but  she  is  in  it,  —  there 
fore  she  has  to  do ;  and  I  think  there  will  be  a  certain  finer  line 
upon  all  things  and  places,  and  a  certain  truer  perception  in  our 
selves,  than  we  should  have  had  but  for  this  beginning  of  show 
ings.  I  think  it  may  be  something  like  the  beautiful  and  gra 
cious  "  beginning  of  miracles  "  in  Cana  of  Galilee. 

We  found  the  young  people  in  the  middle  of  a  rehearsal  of  a 
little  domestic  play  which  Lady  Christian  and  they  had  ar 
ranged,  and  which  was  to  be  a  chief  part  of  the  coming  fete. 
So  we  did  not  interrupt  them  ;  only  Hope,  the  eldest  girl,  came 
down  and  greeted  us  while  a  scene  went  on  in  which  she  was 
not  needed ;  and  we  went  and  established  ourselves  just  out  of 
ear-shot,  in  a  farther  glade  of  the  deep  old  garden.  Here  we 
found  chairs  and  rugs  and  a  little  rustic  tea-table ;  and  here, 
after  a  little  while,  Mr.  Truesdaile,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arm 
strong,  came  and  found  us. 

There  is  this  certain  truth  in  spiritism ;  that  a  "  seance  "  is 
something,  arranged  consciously  or  not,  into  which  inevitably 
flow  the  life  and  manifestation  that  belong  to  it.  There  are  per 
sons  whom  I  never  saw  but  twice  —  three  —  four  times,  yet 
who  touched  so  surely  every  time,  the  self-same  chords  in  me, 
that  no  different  tone  of  intercourse  would  have  been  possible 
than  that  which  came,  almost  like  a  Holy  Communion  ;  and 
there  are  others  again  with  whom  I  am  afraid  I  should  be  little, 
and  earthly,  —  be  kept,  and  help  keep  them  so,  —  though  we 
were  thrust  in  each  other's  way  —  I  will  not  say  we  met  — 
every  day  of  our  lives. 

In  Lady  Christian's  garden,  that  fragrant  afternoon,  there  was 
a  circle,  and  the  spirits  came. 

It  had  begun  in  Mr.  Truesdaile's  library,  where  he  and  the 
Armstrongs  had  been  sitting  before  we  got  there. 

The  world  is  all  alive  with  it,  to  be  sure ;  it  is  in  the  air  both 
of  religion  and  science.  I  do  not  think  we  can  say  which 
"  began  it ;  "  if  one  had  not,  the  other  would.  It  is  a  new 
grasp,  a  closer  perception  ;  and  the  first  prophecy  and  advent  are 
like  the  prophecy  and  advent  of  Bethlehem.  The  wise  men 
are  eager  ;  the  Herods  are  scared  ;  the  hearts  that  are  virgin  to 


108  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

the  truth,  and  of  which  it  may  he  horn,  are  in  travail  and  pon 
dering.  The  shepherds,  guarding  their  living  treasures  hy  night, 
waiting  for  the  day,  hear  heavenly  voices  ;  and  in  the  desert, 
growing  and  waxing  strong  in  spirit,  there  is  a  child  already,  — 
the  child  of  a  stern,  judging  Truth  that  shall  be  the  world's 
awakening  to  its  need,  —  waiting  for  the  day  of  its  showing 
unto  Israel. 

A  new  reach  and  message  through  the  things  that  are  the 
types,  —  a  last  word  sent  back  from  the  farthest  advance,  and 
farthest  discovery  of  material  exploration  and  analysis,  —  this 
was  what  they  talked  of,  as  people  are  talking  everywhere. 

"  They  have  almost  touched  heaven,  and  they  do  not  know 
it,"  said  Mr.  Truesdaile,  as  they  walked  toward  us  and  we  caught 
a  key-note  to  the  conversation. 

"  Protoplasm  is  very  near  to  God ;  and  yet  they  will  never 
reach  Him  by  that  road,"  said  Roger  Armstrong. 

Our  shaking  hands  and  making  places  did  not  put  by,  or 
break  up,  except  for  the  moment ;  we  were  all  so  quick  to 
catch  and  to  desire.  Nobody  even  explained,  "  We  were  speak 
ing  thus  and  so  ; "  or  entreated,  "  Pray,  go  on."  It  went  on, 
because  it  had  to. 

Miss  Euphrasia  said  to  Mr.  Truesdaile,  — 

"  It  may  be  lost  again,  —  that  clew  you  were  talking  of.  Is 
the  world  ready  to  read  the  sign  ?  It  is  as  simple  as  the  Rosetta 
stone  ;  but  nobody  sees  how  the  pictures  of  things  are  the  initial 
letters  of  great  words." 

"  It  has  been  lost  before.  Do  you  suppose  Babel  was  a  round 
tower  up  into  the  clouds  ?  " 

"  It  may  quite  easily  have  been  another  sort  of  reaching." 

" '  Go  to,'  they  said  ;  '  let  us  make  brick  ;  let  us  put  this  and 
that  together,  and  pile  hard  fact  upon  fact,  with  cunning  mor 
tar  between,  and  we  shall  come  to  the  sky.' " 

"  And  then,"  said  Lady  Christian,  "  they  fell  to  talking  differ 
ent  tongues.  Nobody  knew  the  one  language.  They  forgot  it, 
among  them,  in  their  cunning  building.  So  Babel  crumbled, 
and  men  began  again." 

"  Now,  they  are  climbing  a  hill  of  sand,"  said  Faith  Arm 
strong.  "  It  is  not  even  a  brick  Babel,  this  new  way  of  it. 


IN  LADY  CHRISTIAN'S  GARDEN.  109 

They  have  sifted  the  worlds  down  to  particles,  and  made  a  kind 
of  Sahara  of  the  universe." 

"  Where  the  shapes  and  drifts  are  nothing  but  chance  shift- 
ings  of  wind-blown  grains,  and  the  beautiful  things  we  hope  for 
are  only  a  mirage  of  the  hot  air,"  rejoined  her  husband. 

Said  Mr.  Truesdaile,  —  "  They  disintegrate,  to  find  out  that 
which  is  the  secret  of  compaction.  The  livingness  is  in  the 
living  rock.  It  goes  out  by  their  own  process,  which  after  all 
they  cannot  push  to  literalness.  Nobody  ever  saw  an  atom,  any 
more  than  they  see  the  Spirit  that  holds  the  atoms  together. 
Yet  they  will  believe  in  the  one,  and  say,  '  Who  has  ever  shown 
us  the  other  ?  ' ' 

"  Was  not  that,  too,  in  the  parable  told  nineteen  hundred 
years  ago  ?  "  said  Miss  Euphrasia.  "  Building  on  the  sand,  and 
building  on  the  rock  ?  The  holding  to  mere  elements,  which 
fall  apart,  and  the  holding  to  his  saying,  which  is  the  Word 
in  the  world  ?  " 

"  Still,"  said  Lady  Christian,  "  is  it  not  his  hand  upon  the 
world,  after  all,  to  open  its  sight  ?  When  He  healed  the  blind 
man,  He  took  clay,  —  the  lowest  thing  ;  and  he  made  an  oint 
ment  with  spittle,  —  the  most  literal  proceeding  from  his  mouth, 
sign  of  his  most  inferior  material  word,  —  and  anointed  the 
shut  eyes.  And  at  first,  when  the  sight  came,  it  was  not  to  see 
men  even  as  men  ;  but  as  trees  walking.  Are  not  the  wise  ones 
looking  at  humanity  just  so  now  ?  But  the  second  touch  — 
perhaps  the  crumbling  away  of  the  first  anointing  —  showed 
all  things  clearly." 

"  You  have  taken  the  truth  out  of  two  parable-acts,  Lady 
Christian,"  said  Mr.  Armstrong ;  "  but  you  have  mingled,  and 
perhaps  not  mismingled,  the  stories." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Lady  Christian,  smiling.  "I  recollect.  There 
was  the  blind  man  of  Bethsaida,  and  he  of  Jerusalem  —  born 
blind." 

"  And  He  led  the  one  out  of  the  town,  away  from  human  con 
fusions,  and  there  made  the  clay,  emblem  of  first  things  ;  and 
after  He  had  anointed,  bade  him  go  and  wash  in  the  pool  called 
Sent'  It  was  as  he  went,  according  to  the  sending,  that  hia 
sight  came." 


110  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

"  And  the  other,"  went  on  Lady  Christian,  "  in  the  midst  of 
the  city,  close  by  its  very  temple,  touched  with  spittle  also, 
began  to  see,  dimly,  life  in  its  lower  relations  ;  the  men  as 
trees.  After  that,  a  higher  quickening  revealed  the  higher. 
Surely  it  was  not  without  meaning  that  he  did  it  twice." 

"  I  have  never  yet,  said  Mr.  Truesdaile,  "  found  any  question 
or  solution  of  question,  that  was  not  prevised  in  the  New  Tes 
tament." 

"  I  am  so  glad  it  was  called  the  '  Testament,'  "  said  Miss 
Euphrasia.  "  The  perfect  Will,  —  the  clear  intent,  —  the  com 
plete  bequeathing.  We  are  like  children  of  a  vast  inheritance, 
only  coming  to  it  as  the  needs  come  ;  opening  out  treasure  after 
treasure  in  truth,  as  we  do  in  the  heart  of  the  globe,  as  the  life 
demands  it." 

"  He  fed  the  multitude  twice,"  said  I.  "  I  mean,  with  the 
same  repetition  of  circumstances,  so  that  we  easily  confound  the 
two.'  Certainly  He  healed  many  blind  and  deaf,  and  raised 
many  dead,  no  doubt ;  but  we  have  these  few  doubled,  like  a 
saying  underlined.  There  were  Lazarus,  and  the  boy  of  Nain  ; 
how  those  two  stand  together,  in  the  hopelessness  and  the 
weeping,  and  the  '  beholding  of  the  glory  ! ' ' 

"  The  bier  and  the  tomb,  —  yes  ;  the  very  last  and  uttermost 
of  death  ;  twice  shown,  that  the  people  might  see  —  two  differ 
ent  throngs  of  them,  in  Judea  and  Galilee  —  how  '  God  had 
visited  his  people.'  And  that,  by  the  mouths  of  many  witnesses, 
the  word  of  immortality  might  be  established." 

"  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Truesdaile,  as  Mr.  Armstrong  paused, 
"  that  we  have  more  nearly  the  whole  of  these  ministries  in  the 
record,  than  is  apt  to  be  imagined.  And  I  would  rather  be 
lieve  that  there  were  no  more.  For  if  Jesus  had  literally  swept 
all  pain  and  death  from  before  his  presence,  wherever  He  went, 
and  as  long  as  He  lived  upon  the  earth,  we  should  not  have 
learned  the  other  side  of  his  mercy  that  He  came  to  show. 
There  is  as  true  a  comfort  in  his  leaving  unhealed,  —  in  his  let 
ting  the  dead  be  buried,  —  as  in  his  turning  back  of  sickness 
and  mortality.  '  This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,'  He  says ; 
'  this  death  is  not  unto  the  grave  ; '  —  when  He  '  abides  still  in 
the  same  place  where  He  was,'  letting  our  grief  and  pain  go 


IN   LADY    CHRISTIAN'S   GARDEN.  Ill 

on.  He  manifests  forth  the  love  and  the  might  that  can  de 
liver,  that  we  may  know  what  the  love  and  might  must  be  that 
suffer  things  to  be  so  now.  That  we  may  be  sure  of  the  order 
ing  and  appointing.  '  That  no  man  may  be  moved  by  these 
afflictions  ;  for  we  know  that  we  are  appointed  thereto.'  So  He 
gave  his  own  body,  and  suffered  the  last ;  though  He  might  have 
had  twelve*  legions  of  angels." 

Miss  Euphrasia's  quiet  voice  repeated,  — "  '  Ye  are  they 
which  have  continued  with  me  in  my  temptations ;  and  I  ap 
point  unto  you  a  kingdom,  as  my  Father  hath  appointed  unto 
me  ;  that  ye  may  eat  and  drink  at  my  table,  in  my  kingdom.'  " 

Tea  was  brought  out  on  trays,  by  two  nice  maids ;  and  the 
young  folks,  with  "Cousin  Amy,"  —  Mrs.  Robert  Truesdaile 
from  Manchester,  —  came  trooping  down  from  the  little  open- 
air  theatre,  hungry  with  their  long  rehearsing. 

Over  the  tea-cups,  while  we  dropped  in  sugar  and  cream,  we 
asked  Miss  Euphrasia  the  question  which  had  come  up  in  our 
minds  many  times,  with  great  curiosity,  but  had  not  yet  been 
asked  and  answered  ;  "  How  in  the  world  she  knew  so  instantly 
of  our  arrival  in  London  ?  " 

"•  I  might  make  a  mystery  of  intuition  and  affinity  out  of  it," 
she  said,  laughing.  "  But  the  truth  is,  a  friend  of  ours  saw 
you  in  the  Park." 

"  One  of  the  Nova  Zembla  friends  ?     And  who  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  Somebody  you  never  saw.  Young  Mr.  Eck- 
ford,  Sir  Harry  Eckford's  son,  who  passed  you  as  he  was  driv 
ing  home  to  dinner.  We  were  there  that  evening,  and  it  all 
came  out  at  table." 

"  It  is  a  stranger  mystery  than  intuition  !  "  cried  Edith,  mak 
ing  great  eyes.  "  What  can  you  mean,  Miss  Kirkbright  ?  " 

"  If  Mrs.  Regis  were  here,  I  think  I  would  hardly  venture  to 
tell  you  ;  but  you  will  enjoy  the  joke  just  as  we  did.  It  was 
your  luggage,  —  yours  and  hers." 

I  thought  of  the  big  letters,  "  Stuart  Regis,  U.  S.  Army," 
and  the  advertisement  of  it ;  and  I  felt  myself  color  a  little  be 
fore  the  eyes  of  these  reticent,  undisplaying  English. 

"  It  was  such  a  funny  coincidence,"  Miss  Euphrasia  hastened 
to  say.  She  was  so  quick  to  see  the  little  danger  signal. 


112  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

"And  Percy  Eckford  is  always  picking  up  funny  things," 
said  Lady  Christian.  I  '11  tell  you  another,  presently,  that  this 
reminds  me  of.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Cousin  Euphrasia." 

Miss  Kirkbright  went  on. 

"  He  came  in  with  such  a  grave  face,  and  made  no  real  con 
versation  for  several  minutes.  Then  he  said  suddenly,  —  '  Hag 
anybody  heard  that  the  Tower  of  London  is  on  fire  ?  I  don't 
mean  that  I  have,'  —  for  everybody  started.  In  these  days  of 
conflagration  one  is  not  surprised  to  hear  that  the  Rock  of  Gib 
raltar,  or  the  Egyptian  Pyramids,  are  burning.  '  It  was  only 
that  I  could  n't  think  where  all  the  things  came  from  that  I  saw 
being  moved  across  Hyde  Park  to-day ;  unless  that  was  it,  or 
the  Queen  was  fetching  home  the  family  plate  and  jewels. 
There  were  two  cabs,  —  I  thought  cabs  were  odd,  under  any 
supposition,  unless  of  fire,  —  and  on  the  top  were  boxes  with 
the  most  portentous  marks !  In  the  first  place,  there  was 
"  V.  R."  itself.  I  just  glanced  inside,  and  I  did  n't  see  Her 
Majesty ;  then  there  was  also  "  Stuart,"  and  "  Tudor,"  and  the 
Latin  possessive  of  "  the  King  "  sticking  out  on  a  corner  ;  and 
the  biggest  box  of  all,  —  iron-banded  and  bottomed,  —  had 
"  STRONG  "  upon  it  in  black  capitals.  I  assure  you  it 's  very 
much  on  my  mind  still ;  one  can't  help  thinking  of  fire,  or  abdi 
cation,  or  revolution,  you  know.  But  the  streets  are  quite  quiet ; 
and  the  only  other  thing  that  occurs  to  me  is  that  the  North 
Western  Express  was  just  in,  and  probably  an  American  steamer 
had  arrived  at  Liverpool.'  " 

Miss  Euphrasia  has  a  little  of  the  English  accent,  —  or  as 
they  claim  it,  want  of  accent,  —  herself;  and  I  could  quite  im 
agine  from  her  repetition,  just  how  the  young  gentleman  had 
toned  and  inflected  it ;  and  quiet  fun  is  really  a  great  deal  fun 
nier  in  the  leisurely  rhythm  of  such  speech,  than  in  our  square- 
chopped  Yankee. 

Edith  was  the  first  to  stop  laughing. 

"  But  it  is  positively  horrible,"  she  said.  "  How  are  we  to  go 
over  Europe  with  such  ticketing  as  that  ?  At  least,  the  Strong 
box  is  to  be  kept  in  London ;  and  I  've  only  '  E.  S.'  on  my  rail 
way  basket." 

"  It  would  n't  matter  much  on  the  Continent,"  I  suggested. 


IN  LADY  CHRISTIAN'S  GARDEN.  113 

"  There  is  n't  any  separate  Continent,"  she  said  ruefully. 
"Americans  and  English  are  all  over  it" 

"  We  can't  hide ;  and  we  can't  take  —  otherwises,"  said 
Emery  Ann.  "  But  if  it  will  do  any  good,  I  can  leave  off  the 
'  Tudor.' " 

"  And  be  signaled  '  Emery  Ann  ? ' "  I  asked  ;  at  which,  fresh 
amusement. 

Do  you  see  how  safe  Emery  Ann  is  not  to  overstep  her  cer 
tainties  ?  She  was  not  clear  about  the  accentuation  of  "  alias  ; " 
but  she  knows  the  common  sense  of  it,  and  she  used  that ;  and 
common  sense,  as  it  sometimes  does,  became  a  piquancy. 

"  Please  tell  us  the  other  thing,  Lady  Christian,"  said  Mrs. 
Armstrong. 

"That  Percy  Eckford  saw?  Oh  yes,  —  it  was  this.  He 
came  into  some  town,  once,  upon  the  top  of  a  stage-coach. 
He  had  the  box-seat,  and  had  been  chatting  with  the  coach 
man,  who  pointed  out  this  and  that  to  him  as  they  rattled  along. 
'  That 's  a  hodd  place  for  a  chapel,  ain't  it,  sir  ? '  said  the  man 
stretching  out  his  whip  toward  a  tabernacle  building  that  fronted 
on  the  main  street  between  two  shops.  Over  one  of  these  was 
the  sign,  '  Evans,  Tailor  ; '  and  on  the  other,  '  Watson,  Chemist.' 
'  Why  so  ?  '  said  Percy.  '  Don't  you  see,  sir  ? '  said  coachman, 
solemnly.  '  'Evins  on  the  one  side ;  but  —  Wot 's  on  the 
other  ?  ' " 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  Mr.  Trues'daile.  "  In  regard  to 
your  Hastings  plan  "  — 

"  Don't  be  hasty,  dear !  I  've  one  or  two  plans  before  that," 
returned  Lady  Christian. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  of  the  fancy  mail-coach.  Would  n't 
that  be  a  nice  idea  ?  " 

"  As  if  there  could  be  any  possible  nice  idea  that  mamma 
had  n't  already  set  by  in  her  own  head,  papa !  You  do  so  let 
out  all  the  delicious  little  pantry-secrets !  "  said  Hope  Truesdaile, 
who  had  brought  a  garden  chair  beside  Edith,  and  was  making 
quicker  acquaintance  than  I  had  expected  from  a  home-edu 
cated  English  girl,  not  "  out  in  society."  But  then  Hope 
Truesdaile  is  —  Lady  Christian's  daughter. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Miss  Euphrasia,  turning  to  me,  "  I  hope 
8 


114  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

you  can  go  with  us  to  the  Academy.  Have  you  any  other 
plans?" 

"  Nothing  that  cannot  be  adjusted  to  it,"  I  answered.  "  We 
are  not  marking  out  a  campaign  this  time ;  we  are  only  *  en 
route.'  So  that  everything  which  befalls  without  planning  is 
just  so  much  pleasure  of  the  better  sort." 

"Then  let  it  befall  that  we  all  meet  at  Duroy's,  in  Regent 
Street,  and  have  a  little  lunch,"  said  Lady  Christian,  "  and  then 
go  to  the  Exhibition." 

I  think  I  gave  myself  up  to  a  more  resigned  enjoyment  of  the 
evening  from  that  moment ;  seeing  that  there  was  to  be  yet 
another  day.  The  only  bit,  or  little  taste,  of  anything  very  de 
licious  has  always  a  certain  pang  in  the  flavor  ;  which  is,  doubt 
less,  the  moral  of  bitter  almonds  —  in  reverse  suggestion. 

I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  bright,  home-y,  scrappy  talk  that 
followed,  Rose,  as  we  lingered  in  the  garden  into  the  twilight, 
and  the  young  Truesdailes  and  two  or  three  friends  who  were 
helping  them  "  do  "  their  little  play,  discussed  stage  situations 
and  difficulties,  and  begged  advice,  and  got  Lady  Christian's 
criticisms,  and  enjoined  on  Cousin  Amy,  who  was  prompter,  the 
necessity  of  clear  cues  at  certain  points  where  they  were  "  sure 
to  forget ;  "  the  little  consultations  about  tables,  and  attendance, 
and  the  places  for  guests,  who  were  to  be  in  greater  number 
than  usual,  because  the  Truesdaile  garden  party  has  grown  to 
be  an  annual  interest  with  many  who  care  for  the  good  rector's 
work  and  plans  and  the  connection  with  them  of  this  festival ; 
Lady  Christian's  modest  explanation  of  how  it  was,  and  that 
Miss  Clairmorit's  London  tenants  were  the  real  honorary  guests, 
but  that  their  own  intimates,  and  some  whom  they  were  only 
intimate  with  in  the  cause,  —  and  she  mentioned  two  or  three 
very  high  names  of  noble  ladies,  —  had  from  time  to  time 
begged  in ;  —  all  this,  the  letting  of  us  into  their  home  life 
and  its  lovely  expansions,  I  cannot  tell  you  minute  by  minute, 
though  the  skipping  of  anything  seems  like  a  selfish  non-sharing. 

You  cannot  imagine  how  nice  that  eight  o'clock  supper  was ; 
not  hot  and  stuffy  like  a  dinner,  nor  weary  with  course  after 
course ;  but  such  a  pleasant  setting  out  together  of  savory  and 
fresh  and  delicate  and  enticing ;  from  the  roasted  chickens  and 


IN  LADY  CHRISTIAN'S  GARDEN.  115 

the  pink  ham  and  the  smoking,  powdery  potatoes  to  the  fruits 
and  jellies  that  shone  and  sparkled  up  and  down  the  table  in 
crystal  dishes,  among  the  vases  of  flowers,  with  such  adornment 
of  light  and  color-grouping. 

And  the  life  of  the  house  that  gathered  round  it  and  con 
tributed  itself  in  wise  and  sweet  and  bright  variety,  from  Mr. 
Truesdaile  with  his  grand,  gentle  face  and  ways  and  words, 
down  to  the  littlest  one,  —  for  they  have  no  nursery  dinners 
here,  —  who  ate  contentedly  his  two  kinds  of  the  simplest,  and 
chattered  over  it  in  a  happy,  unobtrusive  fashion  that  disturbed 
and  interrupted  nothing,  any  more  than  a  brook  or  a  bird  does, 
—  was  all  just  like  the  supper ;  I  would  rather  call  it  the  repast, 
for  I  like  that  word  with  the  intensive  particle,  which  makes 
the  food  something  more  than  feeding. 

In  all  things,  I  think  this  household  life  realizes  its  types,  and 
makes  them  sacraments  of  the  blessed  verities.  That,  too, 
without  any  cant ;  not  even  the  cant  of  an ti -cant,  to  which 
some  excellent  people  swing  over  in  these  days,  making  a  busi 
ness  of  their  genuineness. 

I  am  in  danger  of  talking  about  it  as  much  as  if  I  gave  it  all, 
word  by  word ;  but,  indeed,  I  doubt  if  I  find  anywhere  beyond, 
much  that  will  be  better  worth  while  to  dwell  on. 

I  will  skip  abruptly  to  the  next  morning,  and  the  Exhibition. 
Or,  —  I  will  begin  there,  when  I  next  sit  down  to  write. 

But  I  must  put  in  what  Emery  Ann  said  after  we  got  home, 
about  the  "  Word-and-the-philosophers  "  talk,  that  she  had  list 
ened  to  in  her  unpresuming,  keen  silence. 

"  It 's  a  good  thing  that  the  Lord  has  put  his  own  corner 
stone  under  creation,  and  we  don't  have  to  wait  for  their  round 
towers, —  that  some  of  us  mightn't  ever  hear  tell  of.  I'm  glad 
I  was  born  into  a  world  where  there  was  a  Bible,  —  instead  of 
a  Babel,  —  ready-made  ;  any  way,  I  was,  whether  I  'm  glad  or 
not ;  and  so  were  these  wise  men,  that  it  appears  to  me  don't 
pick  up  the  best  of  their  facts,  after  all 's  said  and  done. 
There 's  facts  at  both  ends ;  they  won't  get  'em  all  out  of  the 
crumbles.  A  man  's  a  fact  himself ;  and  his  very  inquisitive- 
ness.  If  thinkin'  comes  of  it,  it  stands  to  reason  thinkin'  must 
have  gone  towards  it.  If  there 's  soul  at  the  tail  end,  'here 's 


116  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

Soul  at  the  beginning.  It's  the  first  and  the  Last,  and  the 
Almighty  has  said  so." 

"  And  he  took  alphabet-letters  to  say  it  by.  All  the  world- 
word  lies  in  that  parenthesis,"  I  answered  her. 

"  Likely."  Emery  Ann's  New  Englandism  had  its  own  sen 
tentious  reverence.  "  For,  —  come  to,  —  there  is  n't  so  much  as 
any  little  nut  meat  that  has  n't  got  a  whole  tree  in  it." 

Which  is  also  the  parable  of  the  mustard-seed  and  the  king 
dom. 


A   STRAW.  117 


CHAPTER  XI. 
A  STRAW. 


Mr  DEAR  ROSE-NOBLE,  —  There  must  always  be  dates  and 
postmarks  ;  by  them  you  know  present  whereabouts  and  safety 
thus  far ;  but  that  is  all  you  will  know  except  as  I  come  to  it 
straight  along.  If  I  wrote  a  letter  of  to-day,  I  should  fall  to 
dropping  out  all  the  yesterdays,  and  presently  to  not  writing  at 
all,  as  people  do,  because  it  is  hopeless  to  write  the  whole  ;  and 
you  would  get  now  and  then  some  generality,  not  even  glitter 
ing,  and  a  string  of  wretched  little  excuses  and  more  good-for- 
nothing  assurances,  instead  of  being  kept  beside  me  all  through, 
as  I  mean  you  shall  be,  on  this  unique  line  of  letter-writing,  if  it 
takes  me  all  the  summers  that  are  left  to  me  to  do  it  in.  I 
never  did  see  the  sense  of  saying  a  lesson  "  skipping  about ; " 
except,  indeed,  the  multiplication  table. 

Margaret  and  her  mother  went  with  us  to  the  Exhibition. 

It  was  my  first  experience  of  a  great  gallery  of  pictures  ;  and 
as  I  look  back  upon  it  from  even  this  distance  of  time,  those  bril 
liant  lines  of  paintings,  with  their  manifold  subjects  and  styles, 
run  into  a  magnificent  confusion  in  my  memory,  and  I  should 
find  it  hard  enough  to  give  you  an  idea  of  what  I  saw ;  so  that 
presently  I  shall  gladly  fall  back  again  upon  that  a  part  of 
which  I  was ;  the  more,  as  it  brought  me,  by  a  chance  hap 
pening,  into  a  little  nearer  understanding  than  I  had  reached  in 
any  way  as  yet,  with  this  proud,  peculiar,  interesting  Margaret 
Regis. 

It  is  such  nonsense  to  go  to  a  place  like  that,  to  see  it  as  a 
whole,  and  only  once.  It  is  something  to  come  to  London  and 
stay  all  the  season  for,  and  visit  every  day ;  spending  your  hour 
or  two,  or  three,  with  the  thing  that  stops  you,  and  then  taking 
it  quietly  home  with  you,  and  putting  it  away. 


118  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

I  shall  get  cross,  continually,  I  feel  sure,  with  heterogeneous 
sight-seeing ;  grabbing  at  things  by  the  bushel,  and  feeling  them 
all  slip  through  the  mental  hold,  like  a  big  handful  of  smooth 
beans  through  the  fingers  ! 

But  bating  the  crossness  and  the  crowd,  —  and  the  crossness 
came  afterward,  —  I  had  a  pleasant  time;  and  I  have  a  gen 
eral  dreamy  notion  of  lovely  glimpses  into  deep  woody  nooks 
full  of  flickering  light,  and  shade,  and  green  repose,  —  of  wild, 
stormy,  cloud-swept  mountain  solitudes,  —  of  shining  beaches, 
and  waters  rippling  in  the  gold,  and  rose,  and  purple  of  dawn  or 
sunset,  —  of  rocks  and  foaming  breakers  and  heeling  ships,  — 
of  sweet  home-scenes  and  quaint  "  interiors,"  —  of  exquisite 
child-groups  and  faces  of  beautiful  women,  —  of  thoughts,  and 
stories,  and,  fancies,  sad  or  bright,  put  down  on  canvas  with  the 
play  and  attitude  of  a  moment, —  all  shifting  before  me  and  re 
placing  each  other  like  the  turning  of  quick  leaves,  as  we  walked 
through  the  splendid  ranges  of  rooms,  taking  the  ten  in  long 
slow  order,  that  yet  seemed  foolishly  brief,  and  coming  back  at 
last  into  the  Central  Hall  and  Sculpture  Gallery  to  rest  and 
gaze  among  the  marbles. 

It  was  when  I  went  into  the  long  room  a  second  time,  to  look 
for  some  picture  there,  whose  title  struck  me  as  I  reviewed  the 
catalogue,  but  whose  title  proved,  as  I  thought,  to  be  the  whole 
of  it,  after  all,  —  that  finding  Margaret  Regis  and  her  mother 
there,  I  sat  down  by  them  on  the  divan  ;  and  that  Mrs.  Regis 
leaving  us  presently,  Margaret  and  I  overheard  a  bit  of  conver 
sation  that  was  just  like  a  page  or  two  of  talk  out  of  a  certain 
sort  of  English  novel ;  which  yet,  in  the  midst  of  its  absurdity, 
touched  Margaret  in  some  keen  way  that  made  an  expression 
flash  into  her  face,  and  drew  from  her  a  sudden  exclamation, 
that  told,  —  like  these  picture-titles  and  picture-glimpses,  —  al 
most  a  history  in  a  glance  and  word. 

The  speakers,  —  or  the  speaker  and  listener,  —  were  two 
elderly  ladies,  —  a  stout  and  a  thin  one,  —  of  dowagerish  as 
pect,  who  came  and  sat  down  beyond  us  and  at  our  backs,  just 
round  the  corner  of  the  long  oval.  Middle-class  dowagers,  — 
at  least  the  head-gossip  must  have  been  such  ;  for  though  she 
talked  like  a  woman  used  to  something  like  society,  and  in  pretty 


A   STRAW.  119 

fair  English,  yet  in  the  excitement  of  her  subject  she  did  occa 
sionally  gently  slip  an  "  h,"  and  then  catch  it  up  hurriedly  in 
her  breath,  like  an  " '  h '  to  carry,"  and  tack  it  on  to  another 
word  instead.  It  does  not  sound  so  vulgar  as  it  looks  when 
written,  unless  in  harsher  aspiration  than  she  made ;  and  you 
must  take  my  underscorings,  not  for^vehement  emphasis,  but  for 
an. otherwise  indescribable  pointing  of  the  cadence;  and  you 
must  remember  the  little  poise  of  inflection,  —  it  is  hardly  rising, 
—  at  the  ends  of  the  phrases ;  and  the  rippling  recitative  of  the 
syllables  between.  That  is,  if  you  would  hear  it  as  I  heard  it, 
which  was  the  beauty  of  it. 

"  Ned  is  reely-but-a  boy,  you  know ;  only  twenty  ;  and  Amy 
ts-but  sixteen.  It 's  quite  se£tled-they  're-to-say-nothing-about- 
it-for-six-mon^s  ;  and  the  Westmacotts  were-to-have-taken- 
-<4ftce-abroad-to  school  ;  but  Amy 's  gone-instead-for-the-suj- 
months,  mind  you?  Quite  out  of  the  way!  But  be/bre-they- 
were-off,  fancy,  there  came-up-the-picnic-to  Netley  ;  and  Mr. 
Smythe  got  an  invitation  for  Ned ;  —  he  came-to-me  in  such- 
'igh  spirits  about-it !  And  he  gave-her-a  magnificent  lockei. ! 
H'eight  guineas,  you-may-lnowMt-was  rnagmyicent !  And  he's 
quite-sure,  and-con£en£-for-the-'alf  year.  I  've  no-doubt-at-a# 
that  Ned  will  be  constant ;  but  I  'm  no£-so-certain  of  -4my.  If 
she  sees  anyone-she-likes-better  on  the  Continent,  she  '11  be 
married,  at  once.  It's  a  very- very-excellent  thing  for  Ned-to- 
be-sure  ;  for  her  mother  had  ^AzVty-thousand-pounds  to  her  for 
tune  ;  and  there-are-the  aunts  beside.  And  it 's  all  to  come  to 
the  children  ;  so  its  a#-right  thai-way,  don't-you-see  ?  —  Ned 
was  always  a  fellow  of  very-'igh  h'aims  !  — It's  no-secret ;  it's 
quite-well  known  in  S'thampton ;  but  you  '11  ^'ws^-if-you-please, 
not  mention  it  from  me  ?  " 

They  got  up  and  went  away,  with  that ;  and  I  turned  to 
glance  at  Margaret,  and  have  the  fun  of  it  out  with  her,  when 
it  was  not  fun  that  I  saw  in  her  face  ;  but  that  flashing,  indig 
nant  expression ;  and  she  said  under  her  breath,  and  with  her 
eyes  shining  straight  before  her,  — 

"  So  they  take  English  girls  abroad,  too  !  I  wonder  what  the 
girls  '  abroad '  do  about  it,  when  it  comes  to  them  ?  " 

"  Stay,"  said  I.  "  And  get  tired  of  Ned,  in  the  natural  course 
of  things,  perhaps  ;  —  sometimes." 


120  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Then  her  eyes  turned  full  at  me,  and  a  little  spark  of  the  in 
dignation  leaped  from  them  into  my  face. 

"  Tired!     What  is  a  person's  word  for,  then  ?  " 
"  My  dear !     Is  that  all,  —  against  getting  tired  ?  " 
"  It  has  to  be  enough,  I  suppose,  after  people  are  married." 
"  Precisely.     And  just  because  of  that,  it  is  not  half  enough 
to  get  married  on.     It  is  n't  —  'I  have  given  my  word,  and  so 
I  will  be  your  wife  ; '  but  — '  I  will  love  you  better  than  all  the 
world  till  death  do  part  us  ; '  yes  — '  till  death  join  us  again  ! ' 
The  first  is  only  a  pledge,  under  human  conditions,  which  often 
remain  to  be  tried,  —  of  a  regard  which  thinks  it  can  make  the 
promise,  some  time." 

"  And  it  has  got  to  be  made.     A  girl  has  no  right "  — 
"  Put  it  the  other  way.     What  would  you  think  if  he  — any 
body  —  were  to  marry  you  just  to  keep  his  word  ?     Would  that 
do  ?     Would  that  be  true  enough  ?     Would  he  have  a  right "  — 
"  He  might  do  a  meaner  thing,"  she  interrupted. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  said  too  much  ?  "  I  asked  Emery  Ann.  I 
was  so  uneasy  in  my  mind  about  it  afterward,  that  I  had  to  tell 
Emery  Ann. 

Nobody  knows  what  that  woman,  with  her  honest,  simple,  un- 
bewildered  common  sense,  is  to  me  sometimes  in  what  she  calls 
"  hard  spots,"  in  the  way  of  clearing  my  convictions. 

"  It  is  such  a  responsibility  to  take,  to  touch  such  things  at 
all,"  I  said,  faint-heartedly. 

"  Patience  Strong,"  said  Emery  Ann,  "  sometimes  I  do  be 
lieve  you  've  got  a  crazybone  in  your  conscience !  What  else 
could  you  do  ?  You  was  spoke  to  plain,  and  you  answered  back 
the  truth." 

"  As  well  as  I  knew  how.  But  you  may  be  mistaken  in  the 
way  the  truth  will  work  —  on  feelings.  What  is  truth  for  one, 
may  not  be  the  truth  for  another.  You  don't  know  what  you 
may  do.  You  may  put  a  straw  across  a  trickle,  which  will  turn 
a  river  another  way." 

"  And  you  may  leave  the  straw  wnput.  You  've  got  to  take 
the  responsibility,  either  way.  I  hope  that  did  n't  stop  you." 


A   STRAW.  121 

"  No.     I  said  all  I  had  a  chance  to." 
"  Another  time  you  '11  have  to  finish." 
"  If  the  chance  comes." 

"  Of  course.     You  can't  make  that.     That  is  n't  your  busi 
ness." 


122  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  DISCIPLES  TO  THE  MULTITUDE. 


....  THE  day  of  the  garden  party  at  Lady  Christian's  was 
the  last  day  of  our  stay  in  London.  It  had  been  settled  that  we 
should  all  go  down  to  Hastings  together,  where  the  Truesdailes 
have  taken  a  house  for  a  little  while,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arm 
strong,  who  wished  to  spend  some  weeks  at  the  south  sea-coast 
with  the  children. 

Some  of  Lady  Christian's  servants  were  to  go  down  by  the 
early  train  next  morning,  and  we  were  to  come  after  by  the 
fancy  mail-coach  to  Tunbridge  Wells,  and  thence  by  rail. 

What  days  these  were,  Rose  !  How  came  they  to  be  made 
in  the  world  for  me  ?  It  makes  me  think  of  all  the  possible 
combinations  that  may  make  great  gifts,  any  moment,  of  our 
daily  bread.  The  people,  and  the  places,  and  the  little  turns 
of  happenings,  held  in  God's  hands,  like  mysterious  numbers, 
that  may  count  up  and  multiply  so  many,  many  different  ways ! 
Why,  it  is  plain  force  of  calculation,  that  we  have  neither  seen, 
nor  heard,  nor  had  it  enter  into  our  hearts  to  conceive,  the 
things  He  has  laid  up,  and  may  bring  to  pass,  —  even  now,  here, 
to-day,  to-morrow.  Living  on  is  a  great  wonder.  The  time 
coming  is  fuller  than  the  time  that  has  been. 

But  —  the  straws  we  lay,  ourselves,  across  the  trickles !  We 
need  have  crazybones  in  our  consciences,  that  we  don't  shatter 
ourselves  against  sharp  corners  that  He  never  set  for  us. 

I  think,  now  and  then,  I  am  having  too  easy,  too  good  a  time. 
That  I  have  laid  out  too  long  a  holiday  from  the  living  in 
earnest  that  I  thought  I  had  taken  hold  of.  And  I  believe  it 
troubles  me  too,  confusedly,  to  see  as  I  move  out  into  the  world 
how  much  doing  there  is  in  it  which  has  not  any  direct  ap- 


THE   DISCIPLES   TO   THE   MULTITUDE.  123 

•m 

pearance  of  that  living  in  earnest  to  accomplish  some  heavenly 
work,  which  I,  in  my  hushed  little  corner,  thought  ought  to  be 
the  mainspring  of  everything,  the  aim  of  every  right-minded 
Christian  person  every  day. 

Here,  at  Lady  Christian's,  is  the  true  life,  the  life  of  faith  and 
helping,  made  a  business  of ;  but  such  motive  points,  so  distinct 
and  few,  showing  in  the  great  working  sea  of  human  struggles 
and  purposes  and  pleasant  pursuings,  only  manifest  the  stir  of 
the  leaven  in  the  three  great  measures,  and  you  are  tossed  back 
in  your  mind  upon  the  question,  —  If  it  were  all  leaven,  where 
were  the  mass  ?  and  must  there  not  needs  be  always  a  "  face  of 
the  waters  "  for  the  Spirit  of  God  to  move  upon,  separating  the 
light  from  the  darkness,  and  so  evolving  the  heavens  and  the 
earth  ? 

I  suppose  the  Kingdom  will  come,  when  the  mass  is  leavened ; 
when  there  needs  not  any  longer  be  a  special  ferment  anywhere. 
The  new  heavens  and  earth  shall  be  established,  when  the  firma 
ment  shall  be  set  in  the  midst,  to  divide  the  waters  from  the 
waters,  so  that  they  which  belong  above  shall  be  lifted  up,  and 
they  whose  place  and  purpose  are  beneath  shall  be  gathered 
together,  and  the  rising  and  falling  shall  be  the  eternal  demand 
and  giving  again  which  is  the  play  of  the  Divine  Will  in  the 
human  condition,  the  rendering  of  every  tribute  in  its  due  order, 
and  He  shall  see  that  it  is  all  good. 

I  suppose  we  need  trouble  less  about  the  true  life,  measuring 
and  condemning  by  contrast,  than  just  to  live,  meekly,  a  true 
life.  It  takes  a  great  many  lives,  in  a  great  many  different  ways 
and  places,  to  make  a  world.  It  takes  many  phases  and  alterna 
tions,  of  work  and  holiday,  week-day  and  sabbath,  sad  and 
bright,  calm  and  intense,  —  much  mixing  even  of  spiritual  and 
natural,  —  to  make  a  single  living.  Perhaps  we  must  leave  The 
True  Life  to  God,  who  overlooks  and  moves  throughout  the 
whole  ;  and  be  blessedly  content,  ourselves,  to  be  but  particles, 
sun-drawn  into  his  heaven  in  rapturous  mist,  set  in  his  cloud  and 
shining  with  his  glory  for  a  token,  or  dropping  down  into  his 
deep  in  rain.  Yes, —  or  just  glad  and  rosy  for  a  while  with  the 
morning,  or  floating  in  calm,  white  rest  upon  a  clear  blue  noon, 
or  waiting  in  a  violet  peace  as  the  night  comes  on. 


124  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

I  think  I  will  not  worry  about  the  easy  time  that  befalls  me 
in  his  order. 

Mrs.  Regis  was  beautifully  dressed  that  afternoon  at  Lady 
Christian's.  Her  thin  black  upper  dress  was  of  the  most  deli 
cate,  yet  firm,  silk  tissue,  woven  in  such  a  sheer,  light  web  that 
the  rich,  heavy  robe  beneath  showed  all  its  costly  splendor  ;  the 
camel's  hair  shawl  which  she  carried  into  the  garden  upon  her 
arm  was  of  wonderful  fineness  :  and  the  very  narrow  border  of 
Indian  needlework  which  relieved  its  plainness  was  such  a  piece 
of  handicraft  and  such  a  combination  of  dusky,  deep,  softly 
blended  color,  as  is  rarely,  I  imagine,  got  away  out  of  the  East 
for  any  European  purchaser. 

She  knew  that  the  Countess  of  L was  to  be  there,  and 

the  daughters  of  the  Marquis  of  W ;  and  I  think  she  was 

conscious  that  if  any  stranger  — and  there  were  a  good  many 
guests  invited  as  we  were,  who  were  new  to  the  house  and  to 
each  other  —  were  to  look  about,  fancying  curiously  who  might 
be  of  the  noblesse,  she  was  quite  as  likely  to  be  taken  for  a 
countess  as  anybody.  I  am  sure  she  walked  down  the  path  and 
took  her  seat  with  a  supreme,  unostentatious  grace  which  might 
have  become  a  duchess. 

Lady  Christian  begged  us  to  make  ourselves  quite  comforta 
ble.  A  few  ladies  were  already  gathered  near  the  front,  and 
Mrs.  Regis,  who  led  our  party,  moved,  after  the  greeting  of  the 
hostess,  with  precisely  that  unassumingness  which  is  conscious 
of  nothing  to  assume,  toward  a  row  of  chairs  a  little  withdrawn 
yet  sufficiently  forward,  and  placed  herself  at  the  end,  against 
the  shade  of  a  low-spreading,  heavy,  dark-leaved  evergreen. 

Margaret,  looking  lovely  in  a  pale  blue  redingote  over  black 
silk,  came  next ;  then  Edith  and  I,  and  Emery  Ann,  who  found 
herself  quite  out  in  the  middle,  and  presently,  when  a  light 
cloud  had  drifted  over,  in  the  full  shine  of  the  afternoon  sun. 

I  wonder  if  it  is  wickedness  in  me,  which  saw,  or  felt,  so 
plainly,  this  tone  of  Mrs.  Regis's,  and  divined  how  and  why  she 
took  it,  while  it  sat  so  native-easy  upon  her ;  and  discerned  the 
instant  discrimination  which  led  her  with  that  quiet  and  indiffer 
ent  grace,  to  what  I  saw  upon  careful  survey,  was  the  very  pref 
erable  and  choice  position  in  the  whole  auditorium  ? 


THE   DISCIPLES   TO   THE   MULTITUDE.  125 

There  was  the  little  apparent  disadvantage  of  being  far  at 
the  side,  and  behind  several  rows  of  people ;  and  of  having  to 
lean  slightly  around  a  projecting  branch  to  get  a  perfectly  un 
obstructed  sight  of  the  stage,  —  which  redeemed  from  obvious 
selfishness  ;  but  as  the  other  seats  filled  up,  and  hats  and  para 
sols  were  bobbing  to  and  fro  in  each  other's  way,  and  eyes  were 
politely  blinking  in  the  dazzle  that  they  could  not  be  shaded 
from  without  incommoding  too  entirely  the  general  view,  it  be 
came  quite  plain  that  she  had  chosen  with  a  most  wise  modesty, 
her  little  sheltered  nook.  Her  clear,  pure  outlines,  and  her 
white,  fine  cap  showed,  too,  very  artistically  against  the  deep- 
green,  glossy  foliage. 

She  leaned  past  Margaret,  and  reached  me  a  large,  handsome 
garden-screen,  "  for  Miss  Tudor."  It  opened  round,  with  a  tilt 
ing  spring,  which  made  a  perfect  shield,  and  inconvenienced  no 
one.  I  had  a  fan  which  slid  upon  its  stick  and  made  a  semi 
circular  defense  for  my  eyes,  and  Edith  wore  a  hat  jvith  a  pretty 
little  dropping  brim,  so  that  Mrs.  Regis  satisfied  herself  that  we 
were  none  of  us  suffering,  and  took  her  own  scrupulous  comfort 
accordingly.  Certainly,  it  was  better  than  if  she  had  not 
cared. 

She  is  not  a  bad  traveling  companion.  "Within  a  certain 
circumference,  she  spreads  a  serenity  in  the  world.  I  puzzled 
myself  with  thinking  what  more  any  one  could  be  expected  to 
do,  since  one  can't  reach  everybody  ;  and  it  led  me  into  the  end 
less  problems  of  a  politico-moral  economy,  —  the  good  of  a 
privileged,  luxurious  class,  the  benefit  of  a  polite  and  elegant 
civilization,  the  service  of  self-service,  demand  and  supply, 
spending  and  earning, — before  the  pretty  tapestry  curtains 
were  drawn  aside  from  the  stage,  and  Hope  Truesdaile  and  her 
brother  Arthur  began  the  play  we  had  come  to  see. 

"  Nothing  is  too  good  for  a  human  being,"  somebody  said  to 
me  once  ;  and  it  came  back  to  me  now.  Ah  !  but  which  human 
being  ?  I  don't  think  I  began  freely  to  listen  to  the  stage  dia 
logue  until  that  other  question,  "  Who  is  my  neighbor  ?  "  flashed 
suddenly  into  syllables  of  light  across  my  broken  musings,  and 
the  memory  of  the  Samaritan  who  went  out  of  his  way,  for  a 
stranger,  answered  over  again  all  the  confusion  of  reasoning. 
What  a  blessed  finality  the  New  Testament  words  are  ! 


126  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

And  did  you  ever  think,  Rose,  how  the  very  promise  of  that 
Spirit  which  men  have  come  to  fancy  is  leading  them  beyond 
where  Christ  led,  was  given  as  of  that  which  should  but  "  bring 
all  to  remembrance  "  of  the  things  that  He  has  told  us  ? 

Did  I  say  we  had  come  to  see  the  play  ?  Well,  I  suppose  we 
had ;  and  it  was  a  charming  thing  to  see ;  but  these  groups  of 
happy,  tidy,  poor  people,  who  sat  around  or  behind  us,  upon  the 
grass  or  garden  benches,  or  strolled  up  and  down  the  shady 
walks,  keeping  the  little  children  blessedly  quiet  with  fresh  air 
and  fragrance,  and  summer  beauty,  and  hands  full  of  ginger 
bread  ;  the  working  women  who  made  holiday  together,  not 
caring  much  for  the  drama,  but  sitting  in  knots,  farther  off  under 
the  trees,  chatting,  and  drinking  glasses  of  lemonade  and  ginger 
beer ;  the  bringing  together  of  high  and  low,  and  what  is  harder, 
between,  —  for  one  sympathetic  enjoyment,  —  this  was  something 
wholly  beautiful  and  satisfying,  and  which  I  certainly  had  not 
come  to  England  expecting  to  see. 

At  the  regular  tea-time,  when  the  play  was  over,  it  was  more 
beautiful  yet. 

The  poor  were  first  served.  There  was  plenty  of  good  cold 
beef,  bread  and  butter,  tea  and  fruit;  and  the  Truesdailes  and 
their  friends,  and  their  friends'  servants,  all  helped  around  the 
tables  where  the  humbler  guests  were  carefully  seated ;  until 
gradually,  and  not  with  any  sharp  distinction,  it  came  to  be 
everybody's  turn  to  get  something ;  and  we  sipped  our  tea,  and 
ate  our  sugared  strawberries  in  the  intervals  of  looking  after  the 
old  women's  cups,  and  the  children's  buns,  or  even  of  tending  a 
baby  here  and  there,  while  the  young  mothers  got  rest  and  re 
freshment. 

It  was  golden  twilight  when  we  went  down  to  the  water-gate, 
to  see  the  barge  off  in  which  they  sailed  down  the  river  again, 
these  poor  Londoners,  to  their  every-day  life  and  work  in  the 
close  streets,  quite  content  and  very  rich  in  the  sense  of  the 
heavenly  things  that  they  could  think  of  for  another  whole  long 
year,  as  waiting  a  little  way  outside  for  them,  and  in  the  heav 
enly  feeling  of  a  human  kindliness,  through  which  their  bit 
of  pleasure  came. 


THE   DISCIPLES   TO   THE   MULTITUDE.  127 

They  went  off  singing  hymns,  after  their  thanks  and  cheers. 
I  don't  think  anybody  grumbled  that  it  was  not  more,  or  that 
they  could  not  have  it  every  day,  as  rich  people  do.  They 
would  not  know  what  to  do  with  it  every  day. 

Certainly,  but  that  the  Lord  Himself,  in  an  hourly  "  great 
humility,"  dwells  with  these  submissive  souls,  making  their  low 
estate  imperial  with  grand  endurance,  it  were  hard  to  read  his 
mystery !  I  do  not  think  his  "  Ye  have  done  it  unto  me,"  is 
spoken  of  a  vicarious  receiving ;  or  that  He  sets  men  anything 
to  bear,  or  any  life  to  live,  apart  from  his.  I  do  not  believe 
there  is  any  vicariousness  in  all  his  universe  of  joy  and  sweet 
ness,  pain  and  punishment ;  but  that  up  and  down  through  all, 
even  through  sin,  walks  One,  as  the  Son  of  Man,  beside  us,  and 
takes  of  ours  upon  Him;  and  that  so  these  least  things  are  the 
really  greatest,  —  the  last  are  first,  —  the  hardest  most  divine. 


328  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FANCY-MAIL:  AND  HALDON  HOUSE. 


....  EDITH  told  me  next  morning  while  we  were  dress 
ing,  that  Margaret  had  had  a  letter  last  night  from  "  the  Mac- 
ken  zies."     That  meant,  I  suppose,  from  Harry. 

"  She  was  in  great  spirits,  auntie,"  Edith  said,  with  a  tone  of 
not  quite  comprehending.  "  She  is  apt  to  be  in  great  spirits,  or 
not  in  any  at  all.  It  seems  as  if  she  were  always  thinking 
whether  she  were  content  or  not ;  and  when  she  fancies  she  is, 
she  gets  into  a  high  glee  ;  and  again  she  is  all  down  —  as  if  the 
very  world  had  dropped  a  little  way,  with  everybody  on 
board  ! " 

"  Simon  says  '  up  ; '  Simon  says  '  down  ; '  Simon  says  '  wig 
wag  ; '  "  said  Emery  Ann,  oracularly,  as  she  picked  up  my  hair 
brushes  and  tucked  them  into  the  bag  that  was  to  go  to  Hast 
ings. 

"I  think  Mrs.  Regis  is  annoyed,  either  way,"  said  Edith. 
"  She  says  Margaret  never  stops  where  people  can  be  comfort 
able  ;  perhaps  she  would "  —  and  here  Edie  checked  herself, 
thinking,  maybe,  that  she  was  talking  out  of  school. 

"  If  she  knew  exactly  where  people  were,  or  where  the  com 
fort  was,"  put  in  Emery  Ann,  unscrupulously.  "  Or  if  folks 
knew  where  she  was.  Mrs.  Regis  don't  understand  that  girl. 
I  believe  she  means  well  by  her,  but  she  nettles  her.  I  can 
riddle  it  out  a  little ;  she  is  in  a  kind  of  a  spot,  —  Margaret  is  ; 
and  I  doubt  if  her  mother  ever  got  into  a  real  spot  in  her  life. 
She  's  gone  right  along  in  ready-made  paths,  always.  She  will 
have  'em  ready-made  ;  that 's  it,  finally." 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Regis  says  things  to  her  sometimes,  that  she 
would  say  to  herself  if  she  were  let  alone,"  said  Edith ;  "  but 
she  won't  say  them  over  after  anybody.  Margaret  is  —  she 


FANCY-MAIL:     AND    HALDON   HOUSE.  129 

seems  —  contradictory  about  some  things  ;  not  her  own,  —  she 
is  n't  that,  a  bit ;  but  about  her  friends.  She  does  n't  like  to  be 
told  things.  Auntie  ! "  The  child  broke  off  suddenly,  to  put 
her  arms  round  my  neck  and  kiss  me  on  both  cheeks.  "  I  'm  so 
glad  I've  got  you,  who  always  do  understand  !  And  I  'm  glad 
I  have  n't  got  into  a  —  spot !  What  are  girls  in  such  a  hurry 
to,  for?  It  is  so  nice  just  to  be  a  girl! '"  And  she  ran  back 
into  her  own  room  again-;  shy  with  the  very  admission  that 
there  might  be  experiences  waiting  that  she  had  not  quite  come 
to  yet. 

I  saw  what  she  meant.  Edith  never  comes  and  gossips  ;  but 
she  has  great  faith  in  auntie,  and  she  thinks  it  safest  for  every 
body  that  auntie  should  know  everything. 

"Contradictory."  "Things  that  she  would  say  to  herself  if 
she  were  let  alone." 

I  found  these  words  coming  back  to  me.  Margaret  is  cer 
tainly  more  restive  with  her  stepmother's  reasons,  than  she  is 
with  reason  when  it  comes  some  other  way.  I  have  thought 
more  than  once  that  her  interest  here  as  the  world  calls  it,  is 
greatly  against  her  interest.  She  is  so  jealous  of  that  ready- 
made  p%,th,  and  its  conditions.  And  Mrs.  Regis  never  would 
think  of  that.  She  can  measure  the  direct  purchase  which  she 
holds  upon  Margaret's  will  or  action,  through  the  power  left  her 
over  her  circumstances  ;  but  she  would  not  discern  the  reflex 
force  which  would  move  so  proud  a  nature  to  resist. 

In  this,  her  tact,  so  wonderful  in  externals,  wholly  fails.  She 
has  that  sort  of  inner  touch  whose  sense  lies  just  deep  enough  to 
make  her  gracious  and  graceful  ;  quick  to  perceive  discomfort 
and  turn  aside  annoyance ;  but  she  has  not  that  profounder 
reach,  possessed  only  by  an  actual  gift,  or  attained  by  a  passing 
over  of  one's  consciousness  into  another's,  which  sounds  charac 
ter  and  feels  experience  not  one's  own.  Margaret,  of  a  nobler 
make,  yet  has  hardly  either  at  present.  She  has  the  headlong 
ardor  and  intensity  of  a  young  girl ;  generous  in  intention,  be 
cause  adoring  the  idea  of  generosity ;  but  realizing  too  keenly 
her  own  first  contacts  with  life  to  put  herself  in  other  possible 
attitudes,  or  to  face  with  a  calm  judgment,  her  own  feelings 
9 


130  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

and  apprehensions,  which  she  takes  to  be  unchanging  verities 
and  convictions. 

Seeing  this,  and  foreseeing  through  how  many  tides  and  alter 
nations  must  come,  if  ever,  a  real  adjustment  and  repose  in  Mar 
garet's  own  self  and  destiny,  or  in  the  mutual  relation  of  these 
two  who  call  each  other  mother  and  daughter,  —  one  cannot 
fully  rejoice  with  the  girl  when  she  does  rejoice ;  when  these 
moods  come  over  her  of  a  fancied  content, — a  resting  in  the 
present  or  the  merely  circumstantial,  —  a  "taking  things  as 
they  come,  and  the  world  as  it  goes,"  according  to  the  phrase. 
Yet  it  is  lovely,  for  the  moment,  to  see  her  face  bright,  and  to 
feel  her  in  tune  with  the  pleasantness  of  the  day  and  time ;  such 
a  day  and  time  as  they  were  when  we  set  off  in  the  fancy  mail- 
coach  for  Tunbridge  Wells. 

We  drove  down  in  —  flies  or  flys,  should  I  make  the  plural 
of  it  ?  to  White  Horse  Cellar,  from  which  the  coach  departs. 
On  the  way,  somewhere,  —  I  can't  in  the  least  tell  you  where, — 
we  went  by  a  big  building  and  a  court-yard,  and  were  aware  of 
a  little  gathering,  and  saw  hats  raised,  and  caught  the  sound  of 
a  cheer  ;  somebody  said,  —  "  The  Duke  of  Cambridge  ;  "  I  be 
lieve  he  was  coming  forth  and  mounting  his  horse.  We*  did  n't 
pee  him,  but  I  thought  you  might  like  to  know  that  he  was 
there,  and  we  close  by. 

This  fancy  mail-coach  —  and  I  think  they  told  us  there  are 
several  others  on  different  routes  —  is  run  for  the  pleasure  and 
at  the  chief  expense  (passengers  pay  a  slightly  fancy  price  for 
seats,  to  keep  the  thing  properly  restricted)  of  two  gentlemen  ; 
a  lord  and  a  colonel.  I  heard  their  names,  but  I  can  only  give 
you  the  handles,  which  perhaps  are  the  best  of  them.  At  any 
rate,  it  is  the  polite  end  to  present,  of  things  in  general. 

They  drive  -L—  literally,  themselves,  often,  but  when  not,  their 
very  fine  retainers  do  —  their  own  splendid  horses,  four  in 
hand.  The  whole  turnout  is  specklessly  brilliant  in  finish,  and 
elegantly  complete  in  appointment ;  a  real  mail-coach,  but,  I 
think,  glorified.  No  flash ;  all  quiet,  solid,  but  absolutely  per 
fect  ;  perfect  as  a  parlor  toy.  The  coachman  wears  plain  dress, 
a  gentleman's  morning  suit,  it  might  be.  The  guard  is  resplen 
dent  in  scarlet,  and  carries  a  shining  horn,  which  he  winds  sig- 


FANCY-MAIL  :     AND    HALDON   HOUSE.  131 

Dais  upon  as  we  skim  along.  He  put  us  up  the  steps  to  our 
top  seats,  —  there  are  places  for  sixteen,  railed  and  cushioned, 
on  the  roof;  and  presently  sounded  the  cheery  blast,  which  gave 
notice  of  departure  ;  and  down  Piccadilly  over  the  cool,  watered 
pavement,  we  rolled  on  smoothest  wheels  toward  Charing  Cross  ; 
then  over  Hungerford  Bridge  and  through,  I  can't  tell  you  what 
else  of  London  precincts,  but  southeastwardly,  of  course,  to  the 
city  borders, — the  spaces  growing  larger  and  the  air  fresher, 
all  the  way, —  we  went  out  into  the  green  country  ;  the  omnibus 
drivers  all  touching  their  whips  to  their  caps,  and  everything 
giving  the  road,  as  the  guard's  horn  warned  of  our  coming,  to 
the  representative  Royal  Mail  as  of  old  time  ;  so  that  we  never 
swerved,  or  dropped  from  a  clean  trot,  all  the  way  through  the 
crowded  thoroughfares. 

I  felt  a  child's  smile  of  glee  stereotyping  itself  upon  my  face 
as  we  went ;  and  looking  round  to  see  if  anybody  noticed  my 
"  silliness,"  I  discovered  everybody's  else  marked  with  the  same 
unconscious  delight. 

Emery  Ann  gave  it  voice.  "  I  would  n't  give  a  cent  to  be 
the  Queen  !  "  she  said  to  me.  And  I  hushed  her  up,  quick,  for 
fear  the  superb  coachman,  just  down  in  front,  should  hear  her. 

Nine  miles  out,  —  we  had  hardly  begun  to  think  of  distance, 
and  the  bright  bay  coats  of  the  horses  showed  no  turning  of  a 
hair,  —  we  stopped  before  a  hostelry  ;  one  must  return  to  the 
old  time  phrases,  in  telling  of  a  journey  like  this  ;  and  then  the 
coachman  flung  down  the  reins,  grooms  sprang  forward  to  un 
loose  the  harness,  others  led  out  four  fresh,  magnificent  posters, 
their  shining  tackle  making  musical  rattle  as  they  stepped,  and 
without  a  second  loss  of  time  every  buckle  was  fastened,  the 
spotless  "  lines  "  handed  up  again,  and  the  same  smooth,  swift 
gait  taken  up  with  the  self-same  rhythm  of  hoof-beat ;  and  away 
along  green  English  lanes,  past  farms  and  cottages,  between  the 
hedgerows  we  read  of  in  country  stories,  with  an  air-ocean  of 
balm  bathing  us  in  delight,  and  a  clear,  glorious  sunshine  en 
rapturing  the  air,  we  sped,  and  sped,  and  wished  it  might  last 
forever. 

Every  eight  or  nine  miles  we  had  four  fresh  horses ;  each 
'clay  almost  more  splendid  and  eager  than  the  last. 


132  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

We  went  through  the  quaintest  little  villages,  with  their  real 
old  inns,  —  the  Golden  Lambs,  and  the  Red  Lions,  and  the 
Angels,  —  their  narrow  streets,  with  timbered  houses  and  over 
hanging  upper  stories ;  past  the  manor  places  that  each  belonged 
to,  heralded  by  such  signs  now  and  then  as  "  Sennockes," 
"  Sennocke  Arms, "  etc.  ;  which  one  can  easily  trace  back  to 
"  Sevenoaks  "  and  the  like.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  riding  down  the 
years,  and  through  all  the  delicious  old  books  of  the  old  home 
land.  I  felt  sure  I  was  getting  the  best  of  Europe  (the  Alps 
aren't  Europe,  —  they  are  just  creation),  and  I  said  so. 

"  It 's  the  stir  of  the  old  blood,  I  suppose,"  I  said  to  Mrs. 
Regis  ;  "  but  somehow,  I  can't  care  for  Italy  and  art  as  I  do  for 
these  home  places  and  real  things.  Italy  will  always,  I  fancy, 
have  a  certain  foreign  distastefulness  to  me.  I  never  care  much 
to  read  Italian  stories ;  I  am  so  awfully  heterodox  as  not  to  wor 
ship  their  poets.  The  English  and  Scotch  and  German  ele 
ments  touch  fibres  in  me  ;  they  are  kindred  ;  I  never  can  have 
too  much  of  them.  And  yet  we  are  not  going  to  Scotland  or 
Germany." 

You  see,  that  cannot  be,  because  we  have  only  a  year ;  and 
some  of  us  have  only  just  so  much  money.  We  have  made  up 
our  minds  to  have  Switzerland  ;  which,  as  I  have  said,  is  not 
any  man's  land,  but  God's  land  ;  that  will  take  all  the  summer 
we  shall  have  left ;  and  in  the  winter,  Edith  must  have  mild 
climate. 

Besides,  once  down  at  the  Italian  lakes,  as  we  shall  be  in 
October,  who  could  keep  away  from  Milan,  Florence,  Rome  ? 
I  did  not  say  there  was  not  a  certain  whole  of  me  that  looks 
back  reverently  and  wonderingly  into  the  great  Human  Past, 
though  the  polarized  particles  of  me  have  their  positives  and 
negatives,  without  which  they  could  not  be  shaped  at  all  into 
this  particular  Me,  Patience  Strong.  Some  time  or  other,  per 
haps  I  shall  go  to  Scotland ;  meanwhile  I  must  be  content  that 
it  has  come  to  me  ;  that  I  feel  it  in  temper  and  instinct ;  that  I 
have  inherited  it.  I  am  never  tired  of  anything  Scottish ;  it 
never  discourages  me  to  open  a  book  and  find  it  sprinkled  with 
the  roughest  Highland  dialect ;  its  quaint  words  are  spirit  and 
music  to  me ;  I  interpret  them  as  if  I  recollected  them.  I  feel 


FANCY-MAIL  :    AND   HALDON   HOUSE.  133 

at  home  among  the  hills  and  lochs  where  I  have  never  been.  I 
can  smell  the  heather  from  the  very  map.  I  must  be  content ; 
for  things  are  rarely  given  twice,  —  both  inwardly  and  out 
wardly,  —  here.  That  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Margaret  Regis  and  Mr.  Armstrong  had  the  box-seats  ;  Faith 
Armstrong  sat  behind  with  her  children. 

Mr.  Armstrong  chatted  with  the  coachman,  and  drew  forth 
nice  little  bits  of  local  information,  talk  about  country  places, 
ownerships,  histories.  Margaret  was  amused ;  she  seemed  buoy 
antly  happy.  Once  she  said,  leaning  back  to  me  :  "  How  much 
I  shall  have  to  write  home  about  this  day  !  How  I  wish  — 
Helen  —  and  everybody  could  be  here  !  Did  you  ever  see  such 
horses  ?  Did  you  ever  dream  of  such  driving  ?  " 

It  was  a  help  to  her  patchwork ;  she  had  a  brilliant  lapful  of 
the  "  little  pieces  "  to-day. 

We  dined  at  Tunbridge  Wells.  It  was  a  gradual  let-down 
from  the  ecstasy  of  that  coach-ride  through  the  delicious  Kent 
country,  to  stop  here,  take  a  stroll  after  dinner  to  the  famous 
Pantiles,  where  Dr.  Johnson  and  Mrs.  Thrale,  and  Fanny  Bur- 
ney  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  heroines  of  old  novels  —  walked 
and  talked  and  had  their  day ;  to  look  in  at  the  shop^,  buy  pho 
tographs  and  confectionery  ;  then,  in  an  open  carriage,  to  drive 
around  the  town,  along  the  pleasant  open  roads,  among  the 
softly-swelling,  moor-like  hills  and  uplands,  scattered  over  with 
cheerful  houses  and  smooth-kept  places, — before  we  at  last  took 
the  prosy  railway  train  that  steamed  us  down  across  a  little 
corner  of  Sussex  to  Hastings  by  the  sea. 

It  was  just  dark  when  we  reached  there.  We  had  "flies" 
again  to  take  us  through  the  town,  along  the  quaint  old  streets, 
to  the  Castle  End,  near  which  is  the  lovely,  low  double-cottage 
which  the  Armstrongs  and  the  Robert  Truesdailes  have  taken 
together  for  two  months. 

What  do  you  think  the  old  Castle  ruin  made  me  think  of 
most,  as  we  neared  it  in  the  soft  evening  light? 

High  up  above  the  street  upon  the  cliff,  it  stood  against  the. 
mellowed  east,  —  itself  a  thing  mellowed,  rounded,  softened  by 
decay,  until  it  has  a  shadowy,  dissolved  outline,  with  no  sharp 
defiuiteness  anywhere.  It  reminded  me,  absurdly,  of  the  "tooth 


134  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

of  Time,"  and  made  me  fancy  that  the  old  Rodent  must  have 
lost  his  last  fang  before  he  began  upon  this,  and  only  gently 
mumbled  it ! 

In  a  street  of  cottages  and  gardens  stands  the  Halclon  House, 
as  the  two  buildings  of  very  cosy,  moderate  size,  —  neither  one 
large  enough  of  itself  for  much  of  a  family,  —  are  called.  Every 
"local  habitation  "  has  a  name,  you  know,  in  England. 

The  two  parts  are  connected  by  a  sort  of  covered  gallery, 
whose  lattice  windows  look  down  into  a  deep  greenery  which  is 
the  garden.  The  whole  is  overrun  wildly  by  ivies,  jessamine 
vines,  and  climbing  roses,  with  the  blossoms  of  which  the  air 
was  richly  sweet. 

The  front  door  stood  open,  and  one  of  Mrs.  Truesdaile's 
maids  and  one  of  Lady  Christian's  waited  there  to  receive  us, 
courtesying  as  we  came  up. 

Inside,  the  rooms  were  open,  —  the  vine  sprays  wandering  in 
through  the  low,  broad  windows ;  and  in  the  first  we  entered 
the  table  was  already  laid  with  tea  and  fruit.  It  was  just  pleas 
antly  light  without  candles,  and  would  be  for  an  hour. 

This  English  twilight  is  like  a  gift  of  sweetness  over  and 
above  the  natural,  expected  day.  It  is  like  a  kind  of  Indian 
Summer  of  delicious  prolonging,  overflowing,  the  sunshine  into 
the  darkness,  and  ransoming  the  night.  "  In  the  evening  time 
it  shall  be  light "  were  never  words  of  such  forceful  beauty  to 
me,  until  I  found  up  here  in  the  north  the  tender  abiding  of  this 
soft  amends. 

We,  also,  overflowed  like  the  twilight,  through  the  rambling 
passages  and  up  and  down  bedrooms,  till  each  had  found  her 
place.  Margaret  and  Edith  were  put  together,  in  a  little  apart 
ment  opposite  mine  and  Emery  Ann's,  across  the  garden-break 
between  the  buildings.  Their  window  sash  flew  back  as  I 
opened  mine,  and  the  two  faces,  glad  with  exquisite  surprise, 
were  put  forth  at  once,  and  two  voices  called  over  to  me  :  "  Aunt 
Pashie ! "  "  Miss  Patience  ! "  "  Do  you  think  it  is  real  ?  Do  you 
begin  to  feel  yourself  wake  up,  or  anything  ?  Are  n't  you  glad 
you  came?  " 

This  last  is  the  stereotyped  question  Edie  and  I  ask  each 
other,  remembering  the  weighings  and  hesitations  of  three 
months  ago. 


FANCY-MAIL  :    AND  HALDON   HOUSE.  135 

"  Miss  Patience,"  began  Margaret,  again,  before  I  drew  my 
head  back,  "  Are  n't  you  afraid  it 's  like  the  fairy  cottage  Hans 
and  Grethel  found  ?  Won't  the  old  witch  be  after  us  before 
morning  ?  " 

"  Hush  up  !  "  cried  Edith,  in  a  reckless  rapture.  "  Her  ain't 
a  callin'  we !  UK  don't  belong  to  she !  " 

I  hoped  we  did  n't.  I  hoped  no  old  haunting  witch  would  lay 
her  skinny,  disenchanting  finger  upon  our  blithesome  moods; 
for  there  is  where  the  spell  is  put  that  crumbles  beauty  into  dry 
leaves  or  turns  it  hideous. 

The  girls  came  down  to  tea  with  clusters  and  trails  of  jessa 
mine  in  their  hair,  and  for  sweet  breast-knots. 

I  shall  have  to  skip.  I  will  tell  you  all  I  can,  and  if  you 
want  any  more,  you  may  sing  it  yourself,  as  the  old  song  says 
at  the  end.  I  think  you  can.  I  think  I  could  go  on  singing  a 
good  while,  from  just  these  first  lines  and  thrills,  if  no  more 
written  notes  or  verses  came. 

But  they  did  come.     They  keep  coming. 

Next  day,  as  if  the  cottage  were  not  lovely  enough,  we  went 
off  picnicking.  We  went  to  Fairlight  Glen  ;  a  beautiful,  woody, 
brook-threaded  ravine,  buried  low  beneath  the  brinks  of  sunny 
downs,  where  the  air  was  pasture-sweet,  though  so  near  the 
tingle  of  the  sea. 

We  went  in  a  big  van  ;  and  we  walked  across  the  crisp  turf 
from  a  stile  that  let  us  in  from  the  road  upon  the  Fairlight  ground. 
We  carried  our  shawls  and  baskets,  the  tidy  maids  helping  with 
the  heaviest ;  and  we  had  our  lunch,  and  rested  after  it  all  the 
midday  through,  under  the  great  whispering  beeches ;  and  we 
came  back  by  a  long  drive,  in  the  van  that  had  returned  to  meet 
us  ;  getting  sight  of  one  or  two  old  halls  and  parks,  —  of  Ore 
Place,  built  first  by  "John  of  Gaunt,  time-honored  Lancaster;" 
passing  over  wild,  desolate-looking  reaches  between,  where  here 
and  there  a  windmill  stretched  its  great  arms  forlornly ;  and  at 
last  in  to  bright,  gay  St.  Leonard's,  and  so  along  the  Grand 
Parade  and  by  the  sea-margin,  to  Hastings  town,  and  its  castle- 
cloud  that  lay  soft  again  upon  the  evening  blue,  and  beneath  it 
to  pretty  Haldon  House,  which  is  home. 


136  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

So  quickly  do  we  fit  ourselves  to  that  which  fits,  and  feel  it 
ours.  What  difference  is  there,  of  years  and  days  ?  Some  time, 
it  shall  be  all  ours  ;  gathered  up,  even  to  the  veriest  glimpses  ; 
no  dropped  crumb  lost,  of  the  twelve  baskets  full ;  and  we  shall 
find  our  future,  —  as  some  one  who  knows  promised  me  once 
when  I  was  in  great  loss  and  hunger  and  pain,  —  made  up  of  the 
best  of  that  which  has  been. 

Is  n't  there  something  of  that  in  the  words :  "  When  Christ, 
who  is  our  life,  shall  appear,  then  shall  we  also  appear  with 
Him,  in  glory  ? "  It  doth  not  appear  yet,  what  the  body  of 
that  life  shall  be.  It  is  hidden,  as  it  is  builded,  in  the  heavens. 
But  it  is  all  there. 

The  next  day  after  that  was  Sunday.  We  took  our  books 
and  wandered  out,  after  breakfast,  upon  the  downs  behind  Hal- 
don  House,  that  stretched  over  to  the  sea. 

We  got  into  a  soft,  warm  hollow,  like  a  huge  cradle,  between 
two  swelling  ridges,  —  the  Castle  cliff  rising  up  beyond  the 
farthermost,  —  the  trough  of  which  ran  down  to  the  sands,  and 
through  which  we  saw,  across  the  green-walled  vista,  the  shine 
and  the  blue  of  broad,  glimmering  waters.  And  here  we  sat 
ourselves  down  upon  the  grass,  as  the  people  did  for  whom 
Christ  broke  bread. 

Still ;  still !     As  the  sweet  grave,  or  as  the  ante-heaven  ! 

Faces  take  on  a  revealing  look,  I  think,  in  such  moments  and 
places,  as  the  faces  of  those  do  who  have  gone  past  and  entered 
in. 

Hugh  Truesdaile,  —  one  must  drop  the  commonplace  of  prefix 
sometimes ;  it  is  too  trifling  for  high  reverence,  as  it  is  too 
deferential  for  intimate  neaftiess  ;  —  Hugh  Truesdaile  sat  with 
his  brow  bare,  uplifted  ;  a  deep  light  in  his  eyes  of  a  day  that 
poured  about  his  spirit ;  and  the  wind  that  stirred  his  hair 
minded  me  of  the  whisper  of  a  wind  that  bloweth  where  it 
listeth,  and  in  which  I  was  sure  that  he  heard  voices. 

Lady  Christian  had  a  waiting  look,  of  tender  content.  There 
•was  no  instant  care  of  ministry  ;  and  she  is  so  especially  a  min 
istering  spirit.  About  her  there  seemed  to  be  folded  wings ; 
she  was  like  one"  who  only  attends  for  an  errand,  but  whose 
readiness  is  rest.  The  light  seemed  to  fall  gently  down  upon 


FANCY-MAIL  :    AND   HALDON   HOUSE.  157 

her  forehead  and  upon  her  half-dropped  lids.  I  could  think  it 
fell  upon  her  face  from  the  Face  above  the  Throne. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Armstrong  had  led  the  children  down  farther 
over  the  hill  to  "  look  at  the  water,"  and  for  little  talks  of  their 
own  with  them,  on  the  "  Children's  Day." 

Miss  Euphrasia  drew  near  me,  for  which  my  heart  brimmed 
silently  toward  her,  as  it  did  toward  all  the  heavenly  nearness 
of  the  time. 

Mrs.  Regis  chose  a  seat  a  little  withdrawn,  and  her  eyes,  as 
she  rested  them  upon  the  distance,  had  an  occupied  look,  which 
did  not  seem  gathered  from  anything  that  lay  between  her 
and  that  horizon  pale  with  a  great  light.  She  had  upon  her 
lag  a  book  in  the  chocolate-paper  covers  of  "  Harper's  Select 
Novels." 

Margaret  had  brought  no  book.  She  had  her  little  traveling 
portfolio  on  her  lap,  and  she  had  untied  its  strings,  and  held  her 
pencil  in  her  hand.  But  she  sat  thinking,  and  did  not  begin  to 
write.  In  the  stillness  and  sweetness, —  the  reflux  upon  her 
spirit  of  the  great  tide  of  universal  influence  which  sweeps  back 
upon  us  when  some  little  passing  river-rush  of  our  life  is  spent 
and  loses  itself  against  the  greater  deep,  —  the  shadow  and  per 
plexity  were  coming  back.  She  was  measuring  again  the  little 
against  the  large. 

Lady  Christian  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  think  this  is  a  picnic  again,"  she  said,  "  if  we  only  knew 
it,  and  looked  into  our  baskets.  Are  we  to  keep  all  the  lids 
quite  close,  and  carry  them  back  as  they  came  ?  " 

"  There  are  picnics  and  picnics,"  said  her  husband,  smiling. 
"  There  are  those  of  a  mutual  contribution,  and  others  where 
''iach  brings  for  eachself." 

"  What  a  nice  phrase  !  "  said  Miss  Euphrasia.  "  How  com 
fortably  it  gets  rid  of  the  unmanageable  '  him  '  and  '  her  ! '  You 
\&ve  contributed  already,  Mr.  Truesdaile." 

"  A  word  is  a  good  thing  enough,"  said  Lady  Christian  ;  "  and 
so  are  knives  and  forks.  But  Hugh  has  got  something  better 
than  that  for  us  ;  though  he  is  apt  to  look  after  the  plenishing. 
He  is  very  particular  about  his  spoons." 

"  I  like  best  a  long  spoon  to  reach  into  my  neighbor's  dish 


138  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

with,  I  think,  especially  on  a  picnic,"  he  persisted,  with  a  gentle 
playfulness  that  was  full  of  earnest  intent.  "  I  'm  sure  we  have 
each  brought  provender.  Have  n't  we,  Miss  Tudor  ?  "  he  said, 
catching  Emery  Ann's  eye,  and  seeing  it  alight  with  some  inward 
response. 

"  I  'm  sure,"  said  Emery  Ann,  "  I  should  never  stop  to  think 
whether  I  had  or  not,  any  more  —  than  a  mouse  in  the  middle 
of  a  cheese."  And  her  hands  clasped  themselves  upon  her 
knees  again,  and  her  face  turned  toward  the  light  of  sky  and 
sea.  Emery  Ann's  "  anymores  "  are  as  good,  often,  as  the  sol- 
emnest  "  moreovers." 

"  I  felt  pretty  certain  you  would  say  it,"  said  Mr.  Truesdaile. 
"  Is  n't  there  some  proverb  about  keeping  one's  dish  right  side 
up.  After  all,  something  to  receive  in,  —  and  held  open,  up 
ward,  —  is  the  providing.  Even  a  prayer  is  less  a  speaking 
than  a  looking  up  and  listening  to  hear  what  God  will  say.  — 
There  were  six  water  pots  set,  with  water ;  when  they  drew 
out,  behold  there  was  wine ;  for  the  Word  had  passed  upon  it." 
He  seemed  to  let  it  drop,  there.  We  all  sat  still  again,  for 
quite  a  little  time  ;  then,  quite  in  an  every-day  way,  Mr.  Trues 
daile  addressed  himself  to  Mrs.  Regis. 

"  You  have  some  new  book  there  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Only  '  Heidelberg.'  A  very  old  one.  I  confess,"  she  said, 
with  that  charming  directness  which  at  once  acknowledges  and 
absolves  a  shortcoming,  "  that  my  thoughts  to-day  are  very 
much  upon  my  journeyings,  and  my  great  wish  for  a  little  bit 
of  Germany." 

Between  her  word  and  his  answer,  in  a  flash  of  time,  there 
rushed  through  my  thought  in  a  connected  unconnection,  — 
"  General  Rushleigh,  —  the  friend  he  was  to  meet,  —  Heidel 
berg  ;  it  will  certainly  turn  out  somehow  that  she  goes  there, 
and  first." 

"  Well,  —  we  were  not  bound  together.  I  had  shrunk  from 
having  my  first  vision  of  the  Alps  with  her ;  and  yet  —  My 
eye  fell  on  Margaret,  who  apparently  did  not  notice.  Some 
thing  did  bind  me,  so  that  I  was  a  great  deal  more  unwilling 
than  I  had  fancied,  to  have  this  happen. 

"  It  is  such  a  good  thing,"  said  Mr.  Truesdaile,  "  that  we  can- 


FANCY-MAIL  :    AND    HALDON   HOUSE.  139 

not  bind  ourselves  rigidly  with  our  plans,  try  as  hard  as  we 
may ;  or  settle  everything  beforehand.  Something  is  sure  to 
unsettle,  and  to  shake  into  a  better  shape  than  we  had  intended. 
And  if  a  thing  is  really  good,  sooner  or  later  we  get  it.  So 
that  we  can  take  our  Sundays,  —  the  days  when  we  let  it  rest, 
or  have  to  wait,  —  in  great  peace,  Mrs.  Regis.  Did  you  ever 
notice  how  apt  matters  are  to  look  at  you  with  quite  fresh  faces, 
and  show  quite  new  possibilities  and  relations,  on  a  Monday 
morning  ?  I  have  wondered  sometimes  if  that  were  not,  in  the 
deep  philosophy  of  things,  chiefly  what  the  pause  was  put  for, 
—  the  Sabbath  that  was  made  for  man.  Certainly,  nothing  ever 
stands  still ;  because  the  Father  worketh.  What  looks  like  wait 
ing,  is  leaving  time  for  the  chemistries  of  change.  Did  you 
ever  put  away  a  letter  that  you  found  it  hard  to  write,  or  a  book 
that  was  hard  to  understand,  in  the  very  middle  of  a  sentence  or 
a  page  ?  " 

"  And  find  it  straightened  out  next  time  ?  Yes,  indeed,"  said 
Mrs.  Regis.  "  I  don't  think  there  is  any  miracle  much  greater 
than  that." 

"  I  do  not  think  so  either,"  returned  Mr.  Truesdaile. 

She  rolled  up  her  book  in  her  hands,  and  rested  them  with  it 
upon  her  knees,  looking  into  his  face.  She  had  said  something 
herself,  —  she  had  put  forth  something,  —  to  which  he  simply 
assented,  as  if  it  needed  nothing  more.  The  conversation  — 
become  conversation  —  interested  her. 

"  I  always  say  to  myself  then,"  he  began  again,  u  it  is  Satur 
day  night,  for  this  thing.  Let  the  world  turn  round  again,  and 
make  a  Sunday  between,  and  I  will  come  after  it,  and  see." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Regis,  "  of  making  butter  by 
burying  the  cream,  —  using  the  globe  itself  for  a  great  churn  ? 
For  that  is  what  the  people  say  of  it,  —  that  the  earth  turns  it, 
by  its  own  turning.  You  make  me  think  of  that." 

Emery  Ann  whispered  to  me,  —  "  He  'd  make  anybody  think 
—  of  something." 

I  remembered  the  Spirit,  that  "  quickeneth  whom  it  will." 

"  I  believe  I  had  it  in  my  own  mind,  dimly,  and  could  not 
recollect  what  it  was.  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Regis.  Does  not  that 
join  itself  to  the  sign  of  Jonah  ?  A  burial  —  a  disappearance 


140  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

—  a  blank  —  and  a  giving  again  ?  There  shall  no  sign  be 
given  it  but  that  sign.  How  the  voice  rings  the  sentence  into 
all  our  lives  !  And  yet,  what  a  blessing  upon  all  waiting,  that 
the  Lord  made  this  day  !  " 

He  took  off  his  cap  again,  and  lifted  his  head  up  to  the  air 
and  shine,  —  the  great  sphere  of  the  day  above  and  about  him. 

I  saw  Margaret  drop  her  pencil  into  her  lap,  and  put  the 
fingers  of  both  her  hands  across  her  forehead,  listening.  "  Why 
does  n't  he  come  to  this  child  ?  "  I  thought  to  myself.  As  if  the 
Lord  were  sending  him  round  with  bread  and  wine,  and  he  were 
going  to  miss  one  of  the  little  ones  that  needed  it. 

I  say,  sending  him  round,  and  he  had  not  moved  from  his 
place.  Mrs.  Regis  was  a  little  above  and  behind  him,  on  the 
outer  edge  of  our  group ;  he  had  only  turned  himself  upon  his 
elbow  toward  her  and  addressed  his  question  which  grew  into 
this  talk  that  I  thought  she  ought  to  put  away  as  Mary  put 
away  the  gold  and  frankincense  that  the  kings  brought  to  the 
child.  He  gives  as  the  kings  give ;  to  that  which  is  but  barely 
born,  perhaps,  but  which  is  to  be  the  power  of  Life. 

I  wonder  if  it  is  not  possible  that  I  drew,  with  my  own 
thought,  his  to  Margaret  Regis? 

There  is  a  great  mystery  of  the  will,  which  mesmerism  and 
spiritism  make  no  science  of.  When  I  was  a  little  girl  there 
was  a  tree  in  the  orchard,  —  you  remember  it,  Rose,  —  that 
bore  beautiful,  early,  red-streaked,  spicy  summer  apples.  I  was 
uot  allowed  to  beat  down  the  fruit,  but  I  might  pick  up  any 
that  dropped  beneath.  I  went  down  one  day  and  searched 
without  success  in  the  deep,  warm  grass,  and  then  I  looked  up 
to  a  bough  on  which,  at  the  very  end,  hung  a  round,  perfect, 
crimson,  shining  apple,  that  almost  quivered  on  its  stalk  for 
ripeness,  I  thought,  as  the  faint  breath  of  wind  stirred  the  twig. 
"  I  wish  it  would  tumble  right  down,  this  very  minute,"  I  said 
aloud ;  and  then  a  great  shock  went  suddenly  through  me,  for 
plumb  to  the  ground,  at  my  very  feet,  shooting  a  red  line  through 
the  air,  as  it  came,  fell  the  apple  at  my  word.  I  never  got  over 
it.  I  have  been  less  daring  in  my  wishes  ever  since. 

I  sat  looking  at  Margaret,  who  looked  at  the  sea.  She  was 
down  upon  the  lower  edge  of  our  little  party,  as  her  step-mother 


FANCY-MAIL  :    AND   HALDON   HOUSE.  141 

• 

was  above  us.  I  was  in  a  line  between  the  two,  nearer  to  each 
than  anybody  else  was,  and  able  to  catch  with  the  one  ear  what 
one  might  speak,  and  with  the  other  what  the  other.  So  I 
stayed  ;  for  not  having  put  myself  there  on  purpose,  I  thought 
I  was  put,  and  might  stay,  —  since  they  all  knew  it. 

Mr.  Truesdaile  shook  himself  upright  with  a  sudden  movement 
as  I  said  to  myself,  "  Why  does  n't  he  come  to  this  child  ?  "  and 
came  down.  As  when  the  red  apple  fell,  I  was  startled  by  the 
instant  gravitating  to  my  will. 

"  Now  if  she  will  only  speak  !  "  I  thought. 

I  might  have  been  the  fisherman's  wife  in  the  story,  sending 
her  wishes  down  to  the  sea.  For  the  sea  shone  and  smiled,  and 
something  gave  me  my  wishes  as  fast  as  I  made  them. 

Mr.  Truesdaile  dropped  himself  into  a  little  hollow  just  below 
Margaret's  feet,  a  little  at  one  side.  I  do  not  believe  he  would 
have  crossed  her  line  of  forward  vision,  or  blotted  from  her  for 
one  instant  that  beauty  before  which  we  all  sat,  our  faces  all 
one  inevitable  way.  It  would  have  been,  in  the  large,  what 
crossing  past  the  fire-shine  is  in  the  small. 

But  I  suppose  she  turned  her  head  a  little  at  his  coming,  as 
was  natural,  and  I  suppose  she  felt  the  "  gift  of  God  "  when  she 
saw  what  might  look  ready  in  his  face  ;  for  I  heard  her  say,  — 
hardly  to  him,  but  as  if  his  presence  troubled  her  thought  gently 
to  words,  —  "  How  hard  it  is  to  write  yesterday's  letter  to 
day  !  " 

"  Because  there  is  to-day's  letter  to  read  ! "  he  answered. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  reading,"  said  Margaret. 

Her  honesty  forced  her  into  speech,  for  she  knew  what  lumi 
nous  text  he  saw,  and  what  he  might  fancy  of  her  eyes  intent 
upon  the  page. 

It  put  me  in  memory  of  the  "  Give  me  to  drink,"  and  the 
"  Thou  a  Jew,  of  whom  is  the  salvation,  and  I  a  Samaritan ! " 

"  Maybe  not,"  said  Mr.  Truesdaile.  "  It  is  more  like  the 
children  looking  at  pictures.  That  is  God's  way  of  showing, 
like  the  mother's,  sometimes.  Afterwards,  He  '  tells  us  the 
reading.'  " 

Margaret  spoke,  abruptly. 

"  Why,  when  the  best  of  one   feels   some   chance  of  being 


142  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

happy,  must  the  —  smallest  —  of  one  take  that  very  time  to  be 
miserablest  ?  " 

She  spoke  with  the  grammar  of  a  little  child,  out  of  a  child's 
simpleness,  and  pain,  and  craving. 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  you  do  not  say  '  worst.'  People  are  so 
apt  to  mistake  the  '  smallest '  for  that." 

"  But  if  it  grow  ?  " 

"It  isn't  meant  to  grow,  exactly,  in  itself.  It  is  often  some 
thing  that  will  soon  be  done  with,  like  the  temporary  parts  of 
plants.  It  has  the  sentence  of  death  in  itself.  That  is  why 
you  feel  it  small.  It  is  cramping  the  large,  real  growing." 

"  It  might  not  be  that,"  said  Margaret,  sadly.  "  I  have  seen  a 
plant  growing  between  stones,  —  like  Picciola."  And  then  she 
smiled  a  little. 

"  I  do  not  mean,"  she  resumed  quickly,  "  where  people  them 
selves  are  planted,  exactly." 

Here  showed  that  finer  tact,  of  which  I  believe  Margaret  ca 
pable.  She  would  not  have  her  word  attributed  to  any  sense  of 
pressure  from  her  ordinary,  obvious  relations.  She  was  keenly 
delicate  of  her  step-daughtership. 

"  It  may  be  the  things  in  one,"  she  said,  "  that  should  grow, 
but  that  find  themselves  '  sown  among  the  stones  '  you  know.  I 
suppose  it  is  our  own  doing  often,  that  the  stones  are  there." 

"  I  wonder  how  far,  or  to  what  use,  we  could  go  in  metaphor," 
said  Mr.  Truesdaile,  smiling.  "  I  suppose  you  mean,  maybe, 
that  we  make  certain  circumstances  for  ourselves,  and  then  find 
they  hinder  us." 

Margaret  flashed  a  look  round  at  him  of  which  I  caught  the 
side  sight.  Was  he  a  mind-reader,  —  a  second-seer  ?  How  did 
he  know  ?  That  was  what  the  look  seemed  to  say. 

But  perhaps  it  occurred  to  her,  as  it  did  to  me,  that  if  he  had 
known,  he  would  scarcely  have  alluded  so  unhesitatingly. 

The  keen  question  subsided  out  of  her  eyes,  —  I  could  not 
half  see  them,  but  the  rest  of  her  face  told  how  her  eyes  were 
looking,  under  their  dark  lashes  and  their  "  level  fronting  lids," 
—  and  she  said  quietly,  "  Yes.  Are  n't  we  making  circumstances 
all  the  time,  and  mistakes  in  making  them  ?  And  then  we  have 
to  take  ourselves  as  we  are ;  there  is  no  going  back.  "What  a 


FANCY-MAIL:    AND   HALDON  HOUSE.  143 

enarl  it  is !   I  don't  see,  Mr.  Truesdaile,  why  so  much  was  left  to 
us." 

She  added  these  words  in  a  different  tone,  as  if  scarcely  ven 
turing  them.  There  was  a  certain  hardness  also  in  the  voice, 
though  lo"wered,  as  of  a  constraint  broken  through  unwillingly 
by  strong  impulse,  and  tightened  again  about  herself  in  the  very 
speaking. 

"No  going  back  —  into  the  snarl;  no.  That  would  never 
unravel  it.  But  forward  is  out  of  it,  if  we  go  the  way  we  are 
led.  When  once  we  put  our  hands  in  His,  Miss  Margaret !  " 

"  I  cannot  understand.  Other  people  are  being  led,  too.  Our 
snarls  cannot  concern  only  ourselves.  We  have  no  right  to 
break  through  them." 

"  Did  I  say  '  break  through  ?  '  Did  you  ever  hold  a  skein  of 
silk  for  your  mother  to  untangle  ?  " 

Margaret  sat  silent.  Her  brows  settled  suddenly,  like  a 
cloud.  He  felt  his  way  quickly  out  of  that  blind  turn. 

'•  We  are  falling  into  metaphor  again,"  he  said.  "  There  is 
something  more  direct.  Let  us  take  that.  '  Shall  not  the  Judge 
of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?  '  " 

"  Do  you  think  He  will  set  these  things  straight,  when  we 
have  made  —  if  we  have  made  —  them  crooked  ?  " 

"  It  was  what  He  came  for.  '  To  make  the  crooked  straight.' 
To  judge  the  earth  in  righteousness." 

"But  that^is  the  great  Judgment.  The  Judgment  when  it 
will  be  too  late.  In  which  we  are  to  take  what  we  have 
earned." 

"  If  it  were  too  late,  there  could  not  be  any  judgment.  Per 
haps  you  have  got  the  wrong  word  into  your  jnind.  Are 
you  not  thinking  of  sentence,  —  penalty,  —  instead  of  judg 
ment  ?  " 

Margaret  raised  an .  earnest  look  at  him. 

"  Is  n't  it  what  judgment  is  for,  —  to  pass  sentence  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is.     I  think  it  is  to  justify." 

"  Wrong-doing  ?  "  She  spoke  the  word  with  an  italicising  of 
amazement. 

"  Yes." 

Margaret  positively  stared  at  him.     I  thought  I  knew  what 


144  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

was  coming,  for  I  have  had  the  same  feeling  about  that  word. 
It  has  been  one  of  my  "  dark  lanterns  "  in  the  Scripture. 

"  Suppose  we  say  'adjust '  instead  of  'justify  '  —  the  wrong  ? 
And  suppose  we  need  not  think  of  a  by-and-by  judgment,  that 
might  be  too  late,  —  but  of  a  Now,  which  is  always  the  accepted 
time,  and  the  day  of  salvation  ?  " 

Some  light,  like  a  clear  dawn,  softly  rose  up  in  her  face. 

"  How  easy  that  would  make  life  ! "  she  sighed  ;  and  her  eyes 
fell  down  out  of  their  surprise  into  a  sweet,  momentary  rest. 

"  It  does.  It  is  the  Gospel  of  good  news.  The  '  believe  and 
be  saved,  and  behold  the  glory.'  The  glory  begins,  however 
faintly,  in  the  very  moment  with  the  believing ;  and  it  shines 
more  and  more,  into  the  full,  perfect  day.  The  day  when  every 
thing  shall  stand  in  its  right  light,  — 'justified.'  " 

"  And  what  becomes  of  the  by-and-by  Judgment,  then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  that  is  any  matter,  so  long  as  God  has 
his  way." 

"  Don't  you  believe  in  any  retribution  ?  'r 

"  We  shall  have  to  come  to  definitions  again.  What  is  '  retri 
bution  ? '  Though  it  is  a  man's  word,  after  all.  I  do  not  know 
of  it  in  the  Bible,  where  men  have  supposed  they  got  it.  What 
does  it  stand  for,  however,  —  as  a  dictionary  word  ?  " 

Margaret  bethought  herself  of  her  Latin.  "  For  '  paying 
back,'  does  n't  it  ?  "  she  said. 

"And  who  pays  back?  Is  it  God,  who  tells  us  not  to  rec 
ompense  evil  with  evil,  who  means  to  '  pay  us  off,'  as  angry  men 
threaten  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Is  n't  there  a  good  deal  about  it  ?  Render 
ing  to  every  one  according  to  his  deeds,  and  receiving  the  things 
done  in  the  body  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  should  come  by  those  words,  if  we  followed 
them,  as  by  a  separate  thread  to  the  same  centre.  Or  rather, 
we  should  find  we  had  taken  up  the  same  thread  by  another 
loop.  Let  us  trace  out  the  '  paying  back.'  '  Verily,  I  say  unto 
thee,  Thou  shalt  not  come  out  thence  till  thou  hast  paid  the 
uttermost  farthing.'  Is  n't  that  our  paying  back,  —  which  is 
just  what  God  wants  of  us,  and  which  when  He  has  brought  us 
to  it,  is  our  salvation  ?  Begun  and  perfected  as  soon  and  as 
fast  as  we  pay  ?  " 


FANCY-MAIL:    AND   HALDON   HOUSE.  145 

"  But  there  it  is,  in  those  very  words,  —  the  no  escaping  what 
we  have  done.  '  Ye  shall  by  no  means  come  out.'  You  put  me 
right  back  where  I  wasrMr.  Truesdaile." 

"  '  Until  — '  "  Mr.  Truesdaile  repeated.  "  And  God  knows 
what  the  uttermost  farthing  is,  and  when  we  have  paid  it.  He 
says  also,  he  will  '  save  to  the  uttermost.'  The  paying  is  just  the 
putting  it  all  into  his  hands.  That  is  the  '  imputed  righteous 
ness.'  That  is  the  whole  remission  and  redemption.  A  re 
demption  —  beginning  now,  and  reaching  on  to  the  utter 
most,  —  from  the  very  things  we  have  otherwise  brought  upon 
ourselves." 

Margaret  sighed.  "  After  all,  it  was  not  the  last  Judgment 
that  was  troubling  me,"  she  said. 

I  was  glad  to  hear  those  words.  They  were  drifting  into 
theologies, —  questions  which  to  be  sure  include  all  questions, — 
but  losing,  I  was  afraid,  what  Margaret,  in  her  present  need, 
was  feeling  after.  This  young  girl,  with  her  pure  life  behind 
her,  was  not  trembling  at  the  Great  Final  Judgment. 

"  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Truesdaile.  "  But  the  present  justifying. 
"What  I  say  is  that  they  are  one  and  the  same.  And  that  it  is 
all  a  setting  right.  And  that  it  only  hurts  so  far  as  we  set 
ourselves  against  it." 

"  If  we  could  only  know  which,  —  what,  —  we  were  to  set 
ourselves  against,  —  or  for.  That  is  the  way  it  hurts  some 
times." 

Margaret  was  sufficiently  enigmatical.  But  the  wonder  was 
she  spoke  at  all. 

Mr.  Truesdaile  was  used  to  giving  the  message  that  came  by 
him,  over  the  wires  of  the  heavenly  telegraph,  whether  he  knew 
precisely  to  what  the  words  were  linked  or  not. 

"  You  said  '  if,'  a  little  way  back  in  our  talk.  I  noticed  that, 
and  laid  it  up.  '  If  we  have  made  things  crooked.'  When  we 
are  not  quite  sure  about  that,  the  thing  we  have  to  do  some 
times  is,  to  take  no  new  act  that  can  possibly  be  wrong,  and  to 
wait  until  we  see.  '  Shun  evil  as  sin,  and  look  to  the  Lord,' 
Swedenborg  says.  That  is  the  beginning  of  the  straighten 
ing." 

A  few  minutes  after  that,  Margaret  said  to  Mr.  Truesdaile, 
10 


146  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  away  home,  —  to  Haldon  House,  —  with 
out  any  commotion." 

Mr.  Truesdaile  got  up,  turned  round  to  her,  and  gave  her  his 
hand,  and  helped  her  to  her  feet. 

"  Let  us  walk  over  the  down  a  little,"  he  said. 

And  they  moved  away  quietly  together,  just  as  the  Arm 
strongs  came  back  toward  us  from  their  little  saunter. 

They  passed  up  over  the  fell,  and  disappeared  beyond  the 
farther  slope.  Ten  minutes  afterwards,  Mr.  Truesdaile  returned 
alone.  "  Miss  Margaret  was  a  little  tired,"  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Regis.  "  She  thought  she  would  not  come  down  again.  I 
took  her  across  a  nearer  way,  and  left  her  at  the  foot  of  the 
garden." 

"  Margaret  is  so  exceedingly  capricious,"  Mrs.  Regis"  said  to 
me,  an  hour  later,  as  we  were  all  walking  back,  the  long  way, 
above  the  edge  of  the  town.  "  She  wants  continual  excitement. 
She  was  radiant  the  day  of  the  coach-ride  to  Tunbridge.  And 
to-day  she  is  all  down  again.  She  cannot  endure  repose." 

"  Excuse  me,"  I  answered.  "  I  do  not  think  so.  I  think 
repose  is  just  what  she  is  after.  The  world  is  beginning  to 
look  serious  to  her.  Now  and  then,  perhaps,  she  rather  vio 
lently  persuades  .herself  that  all  is  right,  and  she  is  having  a 
perfectly  good  time.  I  have  done  the  same  thing  myself,  thirty 
years  ago." 

Mrs.  Regis  looked  absolutely  uncomprehending. 

"  I  cannot  understand  people,"  she  said,  "  if  I  must  go  back 
thirty  years  to  do  it.  Thirty  years  rubs  out  a  great  deal." 

"  If  that  is  all,  I  wonder  what  the  thirty  years  are  good  for  ! " 

No.     I  did  not  say  it.     I  kept  it  to  myself. 


THE  LORD  WARDEN  AT  DOVER.          147 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  LORD  WARDEN  AT  DOVER. 


....  WE  left  for  Dover  the  middle-of  the  week.  After  the 
home-life  with  the  Truesdailes,  the  great  Lord  Warden  Hotel, 
with  its  crowd  of  strangers,  its  ceremony  of  tables  and  long 
orders,  its  regiment  of  solemn  waiters  in  black  dress-coats  and 
white  neckcloths,  —  gentlemen  in  orders  one  might  very  inno 
cently  call  them,  —  seemed  cold,  hard,  homesick.  Emery  Ann 
said  that  every  time  they  brought  her  a  bit  of  bread,  she  felt  as 
if  they  were  going  to  say,  "  Dust  to  dust,  —  ashes  to  ashes !  " 

But  the  dining-room  looked  out  upon  the  pier  and  the  white 
surf-line  of  the  Channel ;  and  the  long  glazed  corridor  through 
which  we  passed  to  our  rooms  was  directly  over  the  beach  upon 
which  the  waves  broke  in  musical,  low  thunder ;  and  our  rooms 
themselves  were  on  the  Castle  side,  whose  worn  ramparts,  time- 
mouthed,  like  those  of  Hastings,  but  kept  in  service  and  repair, 
we  could  see  beyond  the  roofs  of  the  curious  old  town,  crowning 
the  white  cliff;  the  very  front  of  England,  set  watchful  and  firm, 
toward  the  other  nations,  across  the  narrow  strait  of  Saint 
George. 

I  was  a  great  deal  too  tired  to  go  over  it,  or  even  to  it ;  but 
the  others  did ;  and  somehow,  now  I  was  here,  and  could  sit 
and  look  at  it,  and  hear  their  story  about  its  walls  and  towers, 
and  galleries,  and  loop-holes,  and  armories  ;  its  relics  of  lances 
and  pikes  and  flags,  and  Queen  Elizabeth's  Cannon,  which  like 
many  an  old  weapon,  of  arms  or  argument,  tremendous  in  its 
day,  could  not  be  lired  off  now  without  firing  it  to  pieces,  —  I 
was  very  content  to  realize  it  so. 

I  do  not  mean  to  fret  about  the  things  I  cannot  do  in  Europe, 
any  more  than  I  should  have  fretted  if  I  never  could  have  come. 
I  may  think  of  them  by  and  by,  wishfully ;  but  so  I  used  to 


148  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

think,  when  I  was  a  child,  of  the  nice  things  at  yesterday's  party 
which  I  could  not  eat.  I  shall  remember  that,  and  know  that 
this  is  as  childish. 

Edith  needed  rest  as  much  as  I ;  though  her  girlish  enthu 
siasm  took  her  to  the  old  Castle.  After  that,  we  settled  down 
very  much  together,  to  our  resting  and  our  writing.  During 
the  five  days  that  we  waited  here,  I  brought  forward  my  story 
to  you  from  the  middle  of  our  London  visit  to  our  leaving  Hast 
ings  ;  as  you  will  find  by  dates  and  details. 

Mrs.  Regis  was  more  ready  to  assent  to  the  delay  than  I  had 
expected  when  I  proposed  it.  She  said  Dover  was  the  jump- 
in  g-off  place,  and  it  was  a  comfortable  spot  to  take  the  look 
from  before  we  leaped. 

Many  travelers  were  coming  and  going ;  we  had  encoun 
tered  already  several  of  our  old  ship-acquaintances,  en  route  for 
various  points  on  the  Continent.  I  felt  as  if  Mrs.  Regis  had 
not  quite  settled  her  mind  about  immediate  plans,  and  that  I 
should  not  be  surprised  any  day  if  she  and  Margaret  were  to 
leave  us  and  choose  some  other  route  into  Switzerland. 

For  our  part,  we  three  were  all  very  thankful  for  the  pause. 
One  feels  that  little  halts  are  needed  ;  little  breaks  in  the  fierce 
impulse  of  this  foreign  travel.  The  wheels  heat,  you  know, 
with  constant  motion. 

Do  you  remember  the  old  "  Boston  days  ?  "  When  we  went 
into  the  city  shopping,  and  rushed  through  four,  or  five,  or  even 
seven  hours  of  crowding  and  counter-dodging,  holding  on  to  the 
thread  of  our  errands  with  the  last  grasp  of  reason,  and  on  to 
our  accumulated  packages  with  our  "  crazy-bones  ?  "  I  am  sure 
if  this  procession  from  place  to  place,  and  this  tying  up  of  good 
times  into  mental  white  parcels,  without  any  chance  to  sort  or 
look  at  them,  or  to  remember  what  we  had  got,  were  to  go  on 
without  intermission,  I  should  feel  as  if  Europe  were  one  great, 
feverish,  frantic  "  Boston  day,"  from  which  I  could  not  get  back. 

I  want  to  make  a  home  and  an  end,  now  and  then,  to  stagnate 
a  bit  in,  and  start  afresh  from.  Emery  Ann  says  :  "  You  can't 
play  tag  continual,  without  a  gool  to  run  to  !  " 

Emery  Ann  was  perfectly  happy  in  an  established  seat  at  a  cor 
ner  window,  making  burlaps  covers  for  our  new  basket  trunks. 


THE  LORD   WARDEN   AT   DOVER.  149 

Also,  we  had  set  up  a  "  cupboard,"  in  a  bureau  with  deep 
drawers.  We  used  to  go  down  into  Snargate  Street,  —  that 
queer,  narrow,  ancient  thoroughfare  of  tiny  shops  with  low  door 
ways  and  overhanging  second  stories,  and  signs  swinging  close 
above  people's  heads,  —  and  buy  biscuits  and  buns,  and  baskets 
of  raspberries,  and  little  pots  of  delicious  Scotch  marmalade,  and 
actually  little  bits  of  boxes  of  fresh  butter,  —  for  we  ordered  "  a 
la  carte  "  at  the  Lord  Warden,  and  paid  "  carte  blanche"  —  and 
we  made  our  own  little  lunches  and  suppers,  at  the  remnants 
of  which  the  funereal  gentleman  who  took  them  away  looked 
as  if  he  were  officiating  at  a  ceremony  slightly  out  of  his  grand 
and  exclusive  line  of  business.  But  if  we  could  n't  be  independ 
ent,  what  was  the  use  of  having  come  from  the  Land  of  the 
Declaration  ? 

Margaret  came  and  sat  with  me  one  afternoon,  when  all  the 
rest  were  gone  out.  She  brought  a  box*  full  of  ribbons  and 
gloves  and  little  trinkets  of  apparel  and  ornament,  to  look  over 
and  "  pack."  As  she  rolled  and  fastened  and  placed,  she  asked 
me  suddenly,  — 

"  Why  should  n't  one  have  ups  and  downs,  Miss  Patience,  as 
the  tide  does  ?  Is  n't  it  the  only  way  to  keep  the  sea-level,,  as 
the  world  goes  round  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  we  must  have  ups  and  downs,  —  apparently,"  I 
answered,  "  until  we  get  where  there  is  no  more  sea.  Only  the 
true  ups  and  downs,  you  know,  are  a  really  steady  following" 

"  Of  the  light  set  to  rule  the  night,"  Margaret  said,  taking  my 
thought  and  finishing  it,  as  I  should  hardly  have  expected. 

"  I  like  that,"  she  went  on,  "  You  always  do  put  nice  things 
into  one's  head,  Miss  Patience.  Mamma  is  right,  though ;  I  am 
very  inconsistent.  I  cannot  keep  the  same  mood  or  mind. 
There  are  so  many  sides  to  everything,  People  allow  two  ; 
and  yet  they  won't  let  you  go  back  and  forth  to  look  at  them, 
without  making  an  outcry  at  you  of  fickleness,  and  not  know 
ing  what  you  want.  They  seem  to  think  that  is  the  most  aw 
ful  charge,  — "  the  very  unpardonable  sin.  As  if  anybody  ever 
did  know  what  they  wanted." 

"  I  suppose  when  we  have  found  that  out,  our  errand  is 
done,"  said  I. 


150  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

"And  we  can  go  home,"  Margaret  rejoined,  not  lightly 
The  girl  takes  one  up  wonderfully.  We  think  we  have  a  great 
deal  to  teach  these  young  ones,  out  of  our  experience ;  we  for 
get  in  what  deep  soundings  of  their  own  they  may  be  at  the  very 
time. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  such  a  very  grand  virtue  to  be  '  decided,'  " 
said  Margaret.  "  But  one  wants  to  feel  sincere" 

"  Sincerity  is  not  always  mere  consistency,"  I  replied.  u  A 
very  honest,  earnest  looking  at  both  sides,  as  you  call  it,  may 
show  like  vacillation  for  a  good  while,  but  the  act  will  at  last  be 
true.  There  is  a  kind  of  decision  which  comes  of  limitation  and 
tenacity  ;  seeing  only  one  side,  and  hanging  on  to  it." 

"  Mr.  Truesdaile  helped  me,"  she  said,  gently,  "  to  one 
thing.  To  do  nothing,  '  from  this  out,'  as  the  Irish  say,  that  is 
not  just,  certain  true.  Then  he  says  it  will  all  straighten  itself. 
No,  —  be  straightened.  But  one  can't  help  thinking  how.  And 
sometimes  it  looks  all  right,  and  then  again  all  wrong.  At  least 
it  has.  Oh,  Miss  Patience,  if  people  did  n't  try  to  be  Provi 
dence  for  you  !  —  I  suppose  papa  thought  he  was  doing  the  best. 
But  it  is  just  a  block  between  mamma  and  me,  and  always  will 
be.  I  won't  be  a  good  child  for  what  I  can  get ! " 

She  took  it  for  granted  I  knew  what  everybody  had  talked 
of ;  and  I  made  no  pretense  of  not  knowing. 

"  Can't  you  set  all  that  quite  aside,  and  do  the  true  thing,  as 
if  there  were  no  conditions  ?  " 

"  No.  For  the  conditions  alter  everything.  They  make  it 
that  I  have  no  mother  to  go  to, —  in  the  first  place;  only  a 
mamma,  —  a  guardian,"  she  said,  with  a  pathetic  little  humor. 
"  I  might  like  her  very  well,  if  it  was  n't  for  my  interest  to. 
And  I  might  be  surer — of  what  other  people  mean,  —  if  it 
was  n't  for  —  conditions.  The  only  thing  I  am  sure  of,  is  that  I 
am  letting  —  people  —  wait,  for  what  the  waiting  makes  me  feel 
bound  to,  and  yet  "  — 

She  wanted  some  one  to  talk  to,  poor  child ;  and  she  found 
it  so  hard  to  talk !  Many  girls  in  her  place  would  have  made  a 
girl-friend.  —  like  my  Edith,  perhaps,  —  and  told  all  their 
secrets  to  her ;  but  Margaret  and  Edith  were  not  girls  to  chat 
ter  like  that.  She  wanted  a  mother. 


THE  LORD  WARDEN  AT  DOVER.          151 

I  wonder  if  she  felt  something  of  your  dear  nearness,  through 
me,  raotherdie,  that  made  me  seem  motherly  ! 

"  A  long  waiting  may  prove  much  —  on  both  parts,"  I  ven 
tured,  just  to  let  her  see  that  I  understood,  without  very  many 
explicit  words,  more  than  for  any  great  help  or  wisdom  I  felt 
myself  in  what  I  uttered. 

"  If  it  had  only  been  to  lose  it  altogether  —  at  any  time ! 
There  would  have  been  some  proving  by  that.  But  seven  years 
waiting!  How  can  you  be  sure  which  it  means  most  of?  I 
wonder  if  it  ever  occurred  to  Rachel  to  be  jealous  of  those  flocks 
and  herds  that  utilized  the  waiting  ?  And  it  was  Leah  he  got, 
after  all.  Rachel  won't  always  turn  out  Rachel,  at  the  end  of 
seven  years.  And  a  girl  can't  ask  a  man  to  marry  her  sooner  !  " 

"  Not  if  Jacob  is  too  cheerfully  resigned,"  I  thought  to  my 
self.  I  began  to  have  a  little  insight  of  what  was  the  matter. 

It  does  not  take  deep  reading  to  spell  over  a  young  fellow 
like  Harry  Mackenzie.  Living  on  the  surface  of  life ;  born  to 
soft  things ;  waiting  in  a  taking-for-granted  manner  for  more 
soft  things  to  be  assured  to  him ;  never  "visited  with  a  sugges 
tion  whether  it  would  not  be  possible  and  manly  to  take  hold  of 
hard  things  and  build  with  them  ;  hampered,  — just  as  girls  are 
hampered,  who  have  to  take  the  chief  blame  for  the  modern 
iufrequency  of  marriage,  —  with  all  sorts  of  little  selfish,  gentle 
manly  habits,  which  the  "  governor  "  pays  for  now,  but  won't 
when  the  term  of  his  administration  is  ended  ;  just  as  much 
tempted  to  think  of  money  in  marrying,  for  his  own  sake,  as 
the  girl  is ;  not  growing  a  single  spiritual  inch,  for  not  putting 
forth  his  powers  as  a  man  should  ;  just  amiably  Micawbering 
along,  and  most  Micawberly  devoted  to  somebody  he  would 
like  welj  enough  to  marry  when  the  time  comes  and  things 
"  turn  up  ;  "  meanwhile  the  princess-nature  of  some  Margaret 
growing  as  a  girl's  nature  does  grow  ivy-fashion,  with  rootlets 
that  put  forth  along  every  stem  of  her  being,  whether  they  find 
anything  outside  of  them  to  lay  hold  of  or  not,  — was  not  here 
a  clew  to  just  such  an  experience,  setting  aside  all  peculiarity  of 
circumstance,  as  was  making  between  these  two  ? 

While  I  thought  this  over,  Margaret,  maybe,  was  thinking 
that  her  half  incoherent  allusions  were  either  more  or  less  than 


152  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

they  should  be,  if  she  would  withhold  or  give  the  confidence 
that  began  to  ache  in  her. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  breaking  the  pause  with  a  quiet 
straightforwardness,  "  that  mamma  does  not  want  me  to  hold 
myself  as  engaged  to  Harry  Mackenzie." 

"  Do  you  want  to  ? "  I  asked,  with  as  sudden  a  straightfor 
wardness  that  came  from  I  know  not  where. 

It  reached  her  unexpectedly.  But  after  the  first  uplifting  of 
her  eyelids  in  surprise,  I  could  see  that  she  was  glad  that  we 
had  come  to  something  plain  and  real. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  just  the  difference  between  wish  and  want," 
she  said.  "  I  mean  it.  I  have  let  him  believe  I  would,  ever 
since  I  was  sixteen.  And  I  might  want  it,  —  wholly,  —  if  he  were 
—  just  a  little  more  —  what  he  might  be.  But  I  think  this 
waiting  is  keeping  him  a  boy.  I  could  n't  care  for  a  boy  all  my 
life,  Miss  Patience  !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  him  so  ?  " 

Her  eyes  opened  again. 

I  do  not  know  exactly  what  possessed  me ;  but  these  short, 
abrupt,  outright  questions  were  all  that  would  come ;  and  they 
were  spoken  almost  before  I  knew. 

For  an  instant,  an  idea  seemed  to  lighten  in  her  face  ;  the 
perception  of  something  real  that  she  might  be  to  him,  instead 
of  merely  the  nice,  pretty  girl  that  he  liked  best  to  be  with ;  of 
an  intercourse,  that  taking  hold  at  once  of  the  verities  between 
them,  should  develop,  if  not  what  her  "  might  be "  indicated, 
then  what  was  meant  to  be ;  that  should  prove  and  settle  on 
the  true,  living  grounds.  But  the  shade  came  back  again  as 
she  said,  — 

"I  am  cornered  —  with  those  seven  years,  and  —  because  I 
cannot  be  in  a  hurry.  Besides,  I  don't  think  I  could  train  him 
up,  and  then  marry  him !  I  want  him  to  be.  And  I'm  just  as 
bad  and  false  as  I  can  be  to  say  these  things,  for  he  is  nice,  and 
I  've  always  liked  him,  and  he  cares  for  me  !  And  I  won't  give 
him  up  because  of  those  nasty  conditions.  I  've  picked  that 
word  up  here  in  England,"  she  added,  with  a  short,  excited  little 
laugh. 

She  would  not  "  desert  "  him.  It  was  precisely  the  feminine 
correlative  of  the  Micawber  type. 


THE   LORD   WARDEN   AT    DOVER.  153 

"  But  in  the  mean  time,"  I  said,  "  if  you  are  anything  to  each 
other,  it  is  something  deeper  than  regards  just  the  things  you 
are  to  have  and  enjoy  together  by  arid  by  ;  it  must  relate  to 
what  you  are.  Try  him  with  your  own  best,  Margaret.  Don't 
give  him  little  pieces.  Be  yourself  to  him,  at  any  rate.  If  that 
is  not  Rachel,  but  Leah,  to  him,  let  the  years  show.  Of  the 
truth,  the  truth  comes." 

I  felt  I  was  getting  dreadfully  sententious,  and  that  there  was 
something  that  might  lie  also  in  the  seven  years  that  neither  of 
us  touched  upon. 

"  Be  yourself  to  yourself,"  I  hurried  on.  "  Live  your  life, 
and  be  honest  with  it  to  him.  Let  it  tell  its  own  story.  Don't 
base  all  your  letters,  all  your  words,  on  a  foregone  conclusion. 
Don't  send  a  letter,  or  say  a  word,  that  is  not,  as  you  said  just 
now,  'just  certain  true.'  Don't  hold  out  to  him  what  you  have 
not  for  him.  And  if  you  find  "  —  I  paused  on  these  words,  for 
they  felt  heavily  responsible  upon  my  lips  — "  that  the  under 
standing  between  you  is  a  fetter,  —  that  it  troubles,  hinders, 
perplexes  you,  —  tell  him  that." 

"  It  is  what  Mr.  Truesdaile  said ;  only  you  apply  it  for  me. 
I  told  you  I  wanted  a  mother,  to  go  to." 

She  kissed  me,  and  went  away. 

Am  I  breaking  sacredness  to  you,  Rose  ?  I,  too,  must  have 
my  helps  to  go  to.  I  do  not  always  need  an  answer  back.  It 
is  a  help  to  me,  just  saying  things  over  to  you ;  as  it  was,  —  as 
it  is,  —  to  motherdie  !  Only  mother  is  at  my  heart,  now  ;  and 
I  need  n't  go  to  her  with  slow  words ;  yet,  while  we  are  outside, 
in  the  slowness,  the  words  "justify." 

I  think  breaking  a  confidence  is  flinging  it  where  it  ought 
not  to  go.  If  any  one  gives  it  to  me,  it  is  not,  I  take  it,  just  to 
hold  fast ;  it  is  for  some  heart-burying  which  shall  circulate  it 
through  my  life,'to  get  whatever  breath  of  life  upon  it  the  rest 
of  me  may  get,  and  to  come  back  from  it  sweetened,  lightened, 
sifted  somehow  of  its  doubt  or  trouble.  I  think  it  is  like  the 
silent  that  the  Master  will  come  for  again,  asking  for  that 
which  has  grown  of  it  to  meet  a  fresh,  a  larger  demand. 

I  think  the  angels  who  minister  into  our  lives,  may  have  a 


154  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

confidence  up  there  with  each  other  about  us,  which  is  not  be 
trayal,  and  which  we  should  not  resent.  Not  that  we  are  the 
angels,  Rose !  Only  the  angels'  copyists.  This  is  one  of  the 
things,  however,  for  which  we  must  pray  that  we  may  u  have  a 
right  judgment  in  all  things ; "  and  then  be  sure  not  to  act  on 
the  first  little  uncertain  impulse  —  instead  of  judgment  —  which 
comes. 

I  am  pretty  certain  that  Margaret  sent  back  no   letter  to 
America  from  either  Hastings  or  Dover. 


REALLY   ABROAD.  155 


CHAPTER  XV. 
REALLY  ABROAD. 


....  THE  Channel  is  a  great  gulf  to  cross,  after  all.  Over 
that,  you  are  out  of  country,  lineage,  and  language,  —  from 
•which  the  ocean  had  not  separated  you.  I  begin  to  understand 
the  English  word  "  abroad."  I  might  have  understood  it  before. 
It  is  not  the  day's  sailing  that  you  are  away,  that  divides  from 
anything. 

We  had  a  bright  morning  to  cross  in ;  and  not  a  very  bad 
sea,  though  it  was  rough  enough. 

We  were  very  proud  of  not  being  seasick.  Our  exemptive 
malady  was  too  recent.  We  had  not  outgrown  our  protection. 
We  stood,  atilt  upon  the  rocking  deck,  enjoying  the  swaying 
and  founding  as  the  birds  enjoy  the  springing  of  the  boughs. 

The  change  and  excitement,  —  the  vague,  glad  anticipation, 
—  were  good  for  us.  I  happened  to  know  how  good  they  were 
for  Margaret.  It  is  such  a  blessed  thing  that  living  is  very  un 
like  romancing.  There  are  such  long,  sweet,  breezy  chapters 
between  the  feverish  points ;  the  commonplace  rests  and  re 
freshes  us  so.  The  delights  poured  in  upon  us,  whether  we  will 
or  not  almost,  through  so  many  channels  quite  independent  of 
that  which  is  shut  or  morbidly  preoccupied,  minister  to  us  such 
unexpected  vitalities  to  contend  with  our  disease.  We  are 
forced,  for  the  greater  part,  to  breathe  a  diluted  air  instead  of 
the  fierce,  unqualified  oxygen  that  would  burn  us  up.  How 
tenderly  denial  itself  wraps  us  round  with  safety,  —  delay  is 
counted  out  with  comforts  !  I  fancy  the  chief  harm  in  novels  is 
the  elimination  of  all  the  gentle,  protective  medium,  and  the 
concentration  of  the  intense. 

If  I  were  writing  a  story,  Rose,  —  don't  laugh  ;  there  is  a 
3tory,  I  know,  in  everything;  but  if  I  were  making  one,  I 


156  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

would  make  places  in  it  to  catch  breath.     As  they  leave  air 
holes  in  long  tunnels. 

"  '  Here  is  land,' "  I  said  to  Edith.  " '  The  ship  is  sailing  up 
to  it.  It  is  a  country.  It  is  France.  We  will  go  on  shore.' " 

Edith  laughed.  "  '  There  are  trees  ;  and  houses.  There  are 
men  upon  the  land.  Are  they  Frenchmen  ? ' ' 

"  What  are  you  saying  ? "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Regis,  who  had 
not  been  brought  up,  I  suppose,  on  Barbauld. 

"  We  are  doing  map  questions  in  '  Easy  Lessons,' "  replied 
Edith,  who  had  always  delighted  in  the  old-fashioned  story 
books  she  could  rummage  out  of  the  ancient  secretary  at  the 
Farm;  and  who  knew  Mrs.  Barbauld  by  heart.  Which  does 
not  mean  by  rote,  either ;  for  I  dare  say  neither  of  us  recol 
lected  the  precise  words. 

But  that  sublime  creature  in  police  uniform,  standing  on  the 
pier  above  the  gangway,  directing  the  crowd  and  talking  two 
languages  indiscriminately,  beginning  a  sentence  in  French  and 
ending  it  in  English  as  his  audience  filed  along,  and  he  descried 
unerringly  the  nationality  of  each  successive  comer,  —  was 
never  mentioned  in  Barbauld.  I  should  not  think  he  belonged 
in  easy  lessons,  certainly.  Not  any  more  than  the  steam- 
sailing  which  connected  our  little  "  walk  "  from  rim  to  rim  of 
England  with  our  coming  "  promenade  "  across  the  champagnes 
of  France. 

We  were  overpowered  and  made  to  feel  small  at  the  very 
outset.  We  were  sure  we  could  never  smatter  like  that. 

They  did  not  wait  for  our  tardy  French.  They  put  us  along, 
somehow,  upon  the  right  track,  and  into  the  right  train. 

We  found  ourselves  separated  in  two  compartments  of  the 
carriage  ;  for  in  the  embarrassments  of  "  Pre>"  "  Hifem(v'  "  Pour 
dames  seules,"  "  Pour  fumer  "  and  "  Defense  a  fumer,"  we  ran 
up  and  down  until  every  one  was  partly  filled,  and  we  had  to 
jump  in  as  we  could. 

Edith,  and  Emery  Ann,  and  I,  found  ourselves  in  company 
with  an  old  French  gentleman  and  lady,  a  young  French  girl 
traveling  by  herself,  and  a  stiff,  silent  young  Englishman,  who 
might  be  a  "  milord  "  for  all  we  knew. 


REALLY   ABROAD.  157 

The  foreigners — I  mean  the  natives — were  voluble.     We 

O 

listened  meekly,  subduedly ;  and  made  our  first  trial  whether 
we  had  ears  to  hear  or  not. 

Their  command  of  their  own  language  was  imposing.  We 
forgot  that  we  could  astonish  them  as  much  in  English.  We 
neglected  our  own  weapons.  For  my  part  I  grew  restlessly 
ambitious,  as  I  did  when  I  stood  by  my  grandmother  while  she 
showed  me  how  to  knit.  "  Click  !  click  !  "  went  the  needles. 
"  Let  me  try ! "  I  exclaimed,  fired  by  their  motions  as  if  they 
had  struck  sparks.  "  Let  me  try,"  was  in  my  mind  now,  "  even 
if  I  drop  all  the  stitches  !  " 

So,  suddenly,  after  long,  weary  silence,  to  the  amazement  and 
almost  dismay  of  Edith,  I  broke  forth  and  spoke.  It  was  when 
we  had  stopped  at  some  still,  sleepy,  sunny  way-station,  where 
doors  had  been  flung  open  and  passengers  had  alighted.  The 
young  Englishman  was  out,  pacing  the  platform. 

I  think  I  made  an  essay  in  this  wise,  after  a  little  careful 
mental  preparation  ;  addressing  myself  to  the  elderly  dame  be 
side  me :  — 

"  Combien  de  temps,  madame,  s'il  vous  plait,  est-ce  qu'on 
s'arrete  ici  ?  " 

(Tf  the  right  mistakes,  —  I  mean  the  ones  I  made  then,  — 
are  not  there,  there  are  others  that  will  do  as  well.) 

"  Sept  minutes,  madame,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Merci,  madame." 

She  had  understood  me,  at  any  rate.  I  hope  I  was  not  un- 
christianly  puffed  up,  as  I  sat  back  in  my  corner  and  came 
wisely  to  an  end ;  but  I  had  a  slight  sensation  such  as  I  im 
agine  one  might  feel  who  had  just  opened  a  successful  commu 
nication  with  the  planet  Mars. 

"  How  did  you  dare  ? "  asked  Edith,  who  is  almost  as  reti 
cent  of  her  French  in  public,  as  she  would  be  of  her  prayers. 

"  I  did  n't,"  I  answered  ;  "  but  I  thought  it  must  come  some 
time ;  and  I  wanted  to  see  if  I  could.  Pray  keep  on  talking 
now,  if  you  can  ;  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  she  will  say  something 
of  her  own  accord." 

But  the  old  Frenchman  and  the  young  Englishman  got  in 
again  ;  a  new  way  passenger  filled  up  the  one  vacant  seat,  and 
the  train  moved  on. 


158  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

It  was  a  great  deal  worse  at  Paris.  There  I  really  had  to 
talk,  and  be  talked  to,  which  is  so  infinitely  more  tremendous. 

We  were  claiming  our  luggage,  and  submitting  to  the  Dou- 
ane  inspection.  (What  a  good,  old-womanish  name  that  is  for 
the  petty,  tyrannical  surveillance  which  is  nevertheless,  like  the 
duenna's  watchfulness,  always  evaded  !) 

A  certain  portmanteau,  belonging  to  our  division  of  the 
party,  was  missing.  We  had  seen  it  on  the  Dover  boat.  The 
hotel  porter  had  brought  it  to  us,  and  we  had  told  him  it  was  to 
go  with  the  luggage.  Consequently,  as  we  found  afterward,  it 
had  not  been  registered. 

"  II  manque  encore  une  piece,"  I  told  the  officer.  "  Un  port 
manteau,  —  brun,  — jaune,  —  comme  <ja,  —  "  pointing  to  a  rus 
set  trunk.  What  he  said  to  me  in  reply,  I  shall  never  know. 

"  Est-ce  que  vous  pouvez  bien  me  dire,  monsieur  ?  Ou  faut-il 
faire  enquete,  s'il  vous  plait  ?  " 

He  signed  us  round  the  square  inclosure,  upon  the  barricade 
of  which  were  piled  the  heaps  of  boxes.  We  went  round, 
peered  anxiously  everywhere,  and  came  back. 

He  was  evidently  growing  impatient.  He  had  examined  and 
passed  our  trunks,  and  two  porters,  frantic  for  the  job,  were 
tugging  at  the  handles  and  vociferating  inquiries  as  to  "  voitures  " 
and  the  way  we  would  go. 

"  Mais,  monsieur,"  I  began  again,  "  c'est  perdu,  —  le  portman 
teau.  Nous  1'avons  vu  sur  le  bateau  a  vapeur  a  Douvres ; 
est-ce  qu'on  peut  1'avoir  laisse  a  Calais  ?  " 

He  asked  me  some  question  about  registering.  I  told  him, 
as  well  as  I  could,  that  I  did  n't  know  ;  that  we  had  sent  it  to  be 
put  with  the  other  luggage  after  we  were  on  board. 

"Alors,  madame,"  —  and  the  word  sounded  like  his  ultima 
tum, —  "il  faut  envoyer  depeche  au  chef  de  gare  a  Calais.  On 
vous  1'enverra  demain,  sans  doute." 

I  think  I  made  it  out  like  that  after  we  got  into  the  carriage. 
It  certainly  did  not  come  to  me  as  he  was  saying  it.  I  took  it 
away  in  a  snarl,  to  pick  out  as  I  went.  For  we  had  to  sub 
mit,  and  follow  the  porters  and  the  things  that  remained  to  us 
which  they  were  carrying  off.  I  had  said,  helplessly,  "  Hotel 
de  Normandie ; "  and  they  had  waited  for  no  more. 


REALLY   ABROAD.  159 

"  That 's  another  thing  that  people  kept  telling  us  that  isn't 
BO,"  said  Emery  Ann. 

Emery  Ann  has  a  way  of  stringing  things  together  with 
"  thats,"  at  regular  intervals,  like  a  kind  of  beadwork. 

"  That  we  should  find  people  that  could  talk  English  every 
where,"  she  went  on. 

"  Depends  upon  how  you  put  in  your  '  everywhere,'  "  said 
Edith. 

I  was  busy  arranging  and  interpreting  my  mental  phonogra 
phy,  and  had  just  made  it  out. 

"  The  man  was  n't  there,  any  way,"  said  Emery  Ann. 

"  No,  only  the  woman,"  rejoined  Edith,  laughing. 

"  One  woman  talked,"  I  put  in  solemnly  ;  "  and  she  —  did  n't 
talk  English." 

"  And  I  'm  persuaded  in  my  own  mind,"  continued  Emery 
Ann,  from  where  she  left  off,  "  that  he  never  will  be,  when  the 
thing  has  just  got  to  be  said  at  the  minute,  or  else  forever  after 
hold  your  peace." 

"  If  we  could  only  forever  after  hold  our  pieces !  "  I  ejaculated, 
fervently.  "  I  shall  have  to  write  a  French  telegram,  now ; 
and  perhaps  a  letter." 

Greatness  was  thrust  upon  me.  The  fool  has  to  rush  in, 
sometimes,  —  he  is  put  there  on  purpose,  —  where  angels  won't. 
Edith  was  too  fresh  from  her  Fasquelle,  and  her  much-corrected 
exercises.  She  knew  too  well  the  difficulties,  and  the  possibili 
ties  of  mis-handled  phrases.  My  old  Wanostrocht  had  lain  dor 
mant  in  my  system,  and  now  cropped  up  as  a  kind  of  instinct, 
which  made  me  think  of  what  the  instincts,  or  innatenesses,  of 
this  and  farther  existence,  may  be.  Then  there  were  the  little 
scraps  of  conversation  lessons  that  you  and  I  had,  Rose,  with 
Madame  Eustache  ;  and  the  bits  out  of  books,  and  the  French 
in  the  French  air  about  me.  I  began  to  feel  that  I  was  flung 
into  the  sea,  and  should  perhaps  swim  in  some  floundering  fash 
ion,  rather  than  go  down.  At  any  rate,  I  would  not  go  to  the 
Regises  about  it.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  at  the  beginning 
that  in  a  double  party  like  ours,  the  only  way  to  avoid  doubling 
the  annoyances  of  travel  would  be  for  each  side  to  keep  its  own 
little  separate  questions  and  hindrances  as  much  to  itself  as 
possible. 


160  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

It  is  just  as  it  is  when  people  go  shopping  together.  If  they 
both  try  to  do  all  each  other's  errands,  they  get  all  mixed  up 
and  tired  out,  and  do  nobody's. 

Mrs.  Regis  and  Margaret  had  been  busy  with  their  own  af 
fairs  at  the  Douane ;  they  came  away  in  company  with  us,  as 
usual,  in  a  second  "  voiture ; "  and  we  were  driven  along  some 
great  avenue,  across  a  broad,  magnificent  boulevard,  and  through 
a  labyrinth  of  turnings  in  old,  narrow  streets,  from  the  Embar- 
cadere  du  Nord  to  the  Rue  St.  Honore  and  the  Hotel  de  Nor- 
mandie. 

"  Do  you  think  we  have  come  to  a  nice  place  ?  "  asked  Edith, 
doubtfully,  as  the  carriage  stopped,  and  a  bareheaded,  bowing 
concierge  appeared  in  what  looked  like  a  dingy  entrance  to 
some  unknown  darkness  within  old  walls. 

"  Baedeker  says  so,"  I  answered,  picking  up  my  little  red 
book  and  preparing  to  extricate  myself  as  the  door  was  opened. 

Through  the  dark  arched  entrance  we  came  into  a  pretty 
court-yard,  set  round  with  plants  and  shrubs,  —  orange-trees, 
rose-trees,  laurels,  oleanders,  —  and  looking  up  between  the 
four  high,  many-windowed  walls,  to  a  clear,  sweet  patch  of  sum 
mer  sky. 

Our  first  French  day  was  softly  closing  into  twilight. 

And  this  was  really  all  of  it,  —  so  far,  —  that  I  glance  back 
over  in  these  few,  meagre  pages,  half  hating  to  send  them. 

The  day's  journey  had  been  very  different  from  our  first  day 
across  England.  The  flat,  marshy  country  stretching  inward 
from  the  north  coast  had  seemed  in  itself  a  dismal  blank.  Noth 
ing  lay  behind  us  between  Paris  and  Calais  that  stirred  much 
interest,  except  the  old  city  of  Amiens  and  its  great  cathedral 
which  we  could  not  stop  to  see.  It  was  a  miss ;  but  we  are 
hastening  toward  the  Cathedral  —  older,  grander — that  the 
Lord  has  set  in  the  midst  of  this  continent  of  his,  to  shed  his 
waters  down  from ;  as  He  has  put  the  Himalayas  in  his  east, 
and  the  Rocky  Peaks  in  his  west  ;  whose  summer  gates  stand 
open  now,  but  will  shut  fast  by  and  by,  bolted  with  ice  and  over 
hung  with  avalanches. 

I  have  given  you  just  what  I  had  to  give ;  I  scorn  to  copy  a 
line  of  guide-book.  I  was  chiefly  taken  up  with  the  Barbauld 


REALLY   ABROAD.  161 

novelty  of  the  stepping  over  as  she  and  Charles  did,  —  the  sud 
den  wonder  of  the  language  let  loose  out  of  the  grammars,  alive, 
over  a  whole  country,  —  and  the  facility  of  these  people  in  get 
ting  along  with  it. 

Margaret  found  a  letter  from  Flora  Mackenzie  waiting  her, 
next  day,  when  we  walked  round  to  the  Place  Vendome  and 
inquired  at  the  banker's.  I  also  got  yours  in  answer  to  my 
Queenstown  packet.  You  encourage  me  in  detail,  also  in  gossip  ; 
understanding  with  me  that  the  Saxon  of  it,  —  the  God-sib,  —  is 
a  good  thing,  and  nothing  less  than  the  human  interest  and  sym 
pathy  that  comes  honestly  and  heartily  from  the  divine. 

So  I  will  tell  you  —  that  is,  I  will  tell  into  the  other  side  of 
my  own  thoughts  —  about  the  letter  that  Margaret  brought  me 
to  read,  after  we  got  back  to  the  hotel  and  had  untied  our  little 
parcels 'of  cakes  and  pralines,  and  our  baskets  of  fresh  raspber 
ries,  and  had  called  for  "  limonade  gazeuse,"  which  is  lemon 
soda-water  in  a  siphon,  and  had  made  ourselves  comfortable  in 
a  broad,  balconied  window,  with  our  cool  lunch. 

Flora  wrote  from  Saratoga. 

They  had  gone  there  for  the  gay  race  month.  She  was 
brimmingly  happy  in  a  new  heart-of-rose  evening  silk,  and  a 
real,  soft,  gray  camel's  hair  walking  dress.  Also  Uncle  Andrew 
had  given  Harry  five  hundred  dollars  for  his  twenty-first  birth 
day  ;  and  the  very  first  thing  he  did  with  it  was  to  buy  her  a 
pair  of  "  perfectly  sweet  diamond  solitaires."  "  Not  large,  you 
know  :  of  course  he  could  n't  afford  that  out  of  it,  but  the  purest 
little  twinkles  you  ever  saw,  in  the  new  nail-head  setting.  By 
the  way,  Madge,  no  girl  ought  to  wear  these  settings  who  has 
flat  ears  !  It  takes  a  little  curly  dint  for  them  to  nestle  in  ;  or 
else  they  do  look  painfully  nail-y  !  Was  n't  it  just  like  him  ?  A 
perfect  shame  of  extravagance  ;  but  so  generous  !  "  And  then 
again,  farther  on,  there  was  a  paragraph  like  this  :  —  "I  must 
tell  you  what  it  is,  Madge ;  don't  run  too  much  into  moralizings 
and  fine  thinkings  with  Harry ;  have  n't  you  got  into  a  dread 
fully  exalted  set  on  board  the  Nova  Zembla?  Men  don't  like 
tete  montee,  of  any  sort :  and  the  serious  craze  least  of  all !  They 
just  want  a  girl  to  be  nice,  and  charming,  and  sweet-tempered, 
11 


162  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

and  bright,  and  gently  jolly  ;  just  as  you  always  were.  If  you 
go  and  spoil,  you  '11  spoil  all  our  dreams ;  and  nobody  ever 
dreamt  anything  half  so  nice  as  we  two,  —  we  three,  is  n't  it, 
Madge  ?  have  laid  out  together.  Did  n't  we  determine,  years 
ago,  that  we  would  live  it  all  out,  and  that  we  would  n't  be  dif 
ferent  by  and  by,  as  people  are,  and  let  it  change  ?  And  now  if 
you  go  and  turn  out  different,  —  Madge,  do  hold  on  !  Can't  a 
girl  ever  stay?  " 

She  told  me  not  to  read  it  at  the  minute,  but  to  lay  it  by  till 
after  lunch.  So  it  was  after  she  had  gone  back  to  her  mother, 
and  I  was  waiting  with  my  hat  on  to  go  with  them  presently 
into  the  old  church  of  Saint  Roch  close  by,  that  I  looked  it 
over. 

You  see  ?  Here  is  a  girl  not  yet  waked  up,  —  determined 
not  to  wake,  but  to  have  her  morning  dream  out ;  and  Marga 
ret  is  waking.  She  is  opening  her  eyes  suddenly,  almost  into 
the  full  face  of  the  sun.  She  hardly  knows  whether  it  is  most 
gladness  or  pain. 

I  suppose  —  as  MacDonald  says  * —  the  Lord  is  "  making  " 
Harry  Mackenzie,  too ;  and  this  Flora.  But  I  am  sure  He  is 
making  Margaret  faster;  and  I  cannot  help  wishing  that  He 
may  not  see  fit  that  the  one  making  shall  depend  much  upon 
the  other.  It  seems  as  if  one  could  see  that  it  would  only  be  a 
pain  and  a  hindrance.  And  when  there  are  such  better  possi 
ble  things !  I  am  afraid  I  should  be  very  willing  that  those 
two,  —  that  girl  and  boy,  —  should  let  their  directer  salvation 
go,  and  take  their  own  way  farther  round,  among  their  kind, 
a  while.  Saratoga  is  full,  at  this  minute,  of  charming  and 
bright  and  jolly  girls ;  I  hope  Harry  Mackenzie  may  have  a 
very  good  time  among  them.  I  should  n't  care  if  some  old 
Laban  brought  along  a  Rachel  all  ready  with  her  dowry.  I 
am  glad  that  Margaret  Regis  is  away  out  here.  I  think  her 
step-mother  is  an  extremely  wise  woman. 

"We  went  into  the  old  church  of  Saint  Roch  ;  just  queer  and 
ancient,  —  that  is  all.  Behind  the  altar  is  an  inner  chamber, 
which  contains  a  representation  in  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  prac 
tical  arrangement  —  of  the  Crucifixion.  A  certain  scenic  dis- 


KEALLY    ABROAD.  163 

position  of  imitation  rocks  piled  up  against  the  back,  for  the  Hill 
of  Calvary,  and  among  them,  at  the  summit,  the  three  crosses 
planted;  of  which  the  central  one,  with  its  Figure,  shows 
through  an  opposite  arch  in  the  reredos  to  the  eyes  of  worship 
ers  in  the  body  of  the  church.  I  suppose  there  are  high  days 
when  the  whole  is  thrown  open. 

It  looks  strange  and  trivial  to  us ;  and  yet  to  thoughts  un- 
stored  with  any  association  of  period,  place,  and  mode,  —  to 
those  who  only  know  the  holy  Story  as  it  is  told  to  them  in  im 
ages  and  pictures,  —  through  times  in  which  old  churches  have 
stood  like  arks,  keeping  the  sacred  signs  of  a  reality  which  sub 
mitted  itself,  like  the  Sign  of  Jonah,  to  a  swallowing  up  in 
darkness  for  a  while,  —  this  system  of  emblems  and  positive 
presentations  is  and  has  been  form  and  showing  for  the  childish 
apprehension  that  would  have  let  the  invisible  go. 

At  first,  the  etfigiation  shocked  me  with  its  rude  literalness ; 
then  it  said  to  me  simply  what  the  words  say,  —  though  in 
raised  letters  as  for  the  blind,  —  "  Christ  was  crucified."  It  has 
said  that  to  thousands  of  simple  souls  to  whom  words  would 
have  conveyed  little. 

After  all,  what  is  this  thrill  and  touch  of  words  but  a  subtler 
sign  of  what  forever  clothes  itself,  because  unclothed  it  is  ineffa 
ble  ?  Like  the  sign  made  in  that  Life  and  Death  itself? 


164  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER    XVL 

A    TALK;    AND   A   TRUSTING. 


....  IT  was  a  glorious  morning  when  we  set  off  for  Ver 
sailles.  A  morning  to  see  Paris  in. 

In  the  three  days  since  our  arrival  we  had  moved  about  very 
little.  The  portmanteau  had  come ;  that  bothered  and  oc 
cupied  me  the  first  twenty-four  hours ;  then  there  was  the 
banking  business  ;  and  there  were  —  the  shops  ! 

You  are  a  woman,  and  will  understand.  We  did  have  to  buy 
things.  What  else  are  the  shops,  and  the  manufactures,  and  the 
imports,  and  all  the  great  system  and  economy  of  trade,  which 
men  think  worth  their  while,  for  ?  Because  it  comes  to  an  end 
with  us, —  because  we  have  to  deal  with  the  grocer  and  the 
milliner  and  the  dry  goods  retailer,  in  the  last  little  details  of 
daily  result  and  need,  they  have  such  a  big  way  of  looking  over 
their  desks  and  ledgers  into  our  world,  and  saying  as  they  see  us 
buzz  about,  doing  our  duty,  —  "  women  —  shopping  !  "  As  if 
they  were  so  many  Aunt  Betsies,  with  their  "  Janet !  donkies  !  " 

It  was  nice  that  we  could  do  so  much  right  there  between 
our  hotel  and  Place  Vendome,  along  the  narrow,  crowded  old 
Rue  St.  Honore. 

We  got  on  best  in  the  shops  where  they  did  not  pretend  to 
accommodate  us  with  our  own  language.  There  were  bright 
little  gilt  letters  stuck  up  against  the  glass  in  every  half-dozenth 
window,  —  "  English  Spoken  ; "  but  almost  always,  a  letter  or 
two  had  dropped  off.  "  Of  course,"  said  Emery  Ann,  "  it 's  al 
ways  broken  English." 

Where  there  was  nothing  but  French,  we  used  a  phrase  or 
two,  and  fell  into  the  natural  language  of  signs ;  and  they  at 
tended  and  divined,  not  being  taken  up  with  sentences.  But 
the  minute  they  began  to  speak  English  to  us,  we  gave  up. 


A   TALK;    AND   A   TRUSTING.  165 

We  found  a  delightful  little  body,  —  a  Madame  Dashwood, 
BO  her  sign  said.  Probably  a  French  girl  who  had  married  an 
English  husband ;  but,  however,  she  spoke  only  French  to  us ; 
out  of  delicate  compliment,  perhaps,  to  our  "  Eskers." 

She  had  all  tfye  most  fascinating  little  ways  of  her  class  and 
nation ;  she  showed  us  things  "  charmantes,"  and  ';  bien  bon 
marche ; "  she  stood  with  her  finger  laid  beside  her  lip  and  her 
pretty  head  on  one  side,  like  a  little  bird  considering,  when 
some  doubt  arose  of  color  or  fit ;  and  then  her  inspiration,  and 
her  "  Mais,  madame,  voila !  "  as  she  produced  something  quite 
indisputable,  or  gave  a  dexterous  suggestion  of  arrangement  to 
the  article  in  hand,  were  enough  to  have  sold  her  whole  stock 
out,  she  was  so  bewitching  in  doing  it. 

The  girls  got  lovely  white  jackets  and  shirt  waists,  with  such 
exquisite  embroidery  and  needlework  laid  out  upon  them  !  So 
many  little  finishing  bands  and  welts,  and  stitchings  !  The 
things  had  a  look  of  everlasting  wear  just  put  upon  their  filmy 
material  by  these  stays  and  edges,  so  delicately  firm,  —  so  re 
folded  and  re-woven  upon  themselves. 

Margaret  bought  also  a  black  luce  sacque,  all  wrought  in  fern 
sprays,  with  borders  of  fine  arabesque  lines  running  through 
them.  Mrs.  Regis  surprised  me  by  quietly  purchasing  one  or 
two  caps  of  finest  point  and  Malines ;  just  light  little  top  pieces, 
with  simple  knots  of  lavender-gray  ribbon ;  and  she  ordered 
some  of  Valenciennes,  whose  simple  triple  quillings  round  the 
Marie-Stuart  point  should  replace  the  tarletane  rolls  of  the 
widow's  cap  almost  imperceptibly  as  to  general  effect. 

"  I  have  thought  of  this  for  a  good  while,"  she  observed  to 
me.  "  But  it  is  so  hard  to  make  a  change  at  home.  And  in 
traveling,  caps  are  such  a  consideration !  Tarletane  crushes, 
and  is  done  with;  these  can  be  carried  in  small  compass,  and 
will  always  come  out  fresh." 

It  gave  me  a  queer  feeling,  and  upset  that  original,  deeply 
impressed  idea  of  her,  as  a  woman  almost  born  for  a  widow's 
cap  ;  at  any  rate,  one  who  once  in  it,  had  made  it  a  part  of  her 
identity,  to  be  known  by  to  the  day  of  her  death. 

But  this  about  the  shops  is  only  in  passing.  I  did  not  always 
go.  I  found  a  few  quiet  hours  each  day,  when  the  others  were 


166  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

out,  in  which  I  could  "  make  fast,"  as  the  sailors  say,  something 
of  what  I  had  been  "  hauling  in  ;  "  you,  away  there  in  Dear- 
wood,  serving  as  my  belaying  pin. 

We  drove  out  to.  Versailles  in  two  open  carriages.  We 
changed  the  order  of  our  usual  arrangement ;  the  girls  took  a 
fancy  to  go  together. 

"  Why  don't  we,  ever  ?  "  Edith  wondered  suddenly. 

Then  it  was  Mrs.  Regis's  suggestion  that  Emery  Ann  should 
be  detailed  to  matronize  them,  and  that  herself  and  I  should 
drive  together.  Emery  Ann  looked  very  suitable,  as  a  sort  of 
English  "  bonne  "  or  "  gouvernante  ;  "  it  would  not  have  oc 
curred  to  Mrs.  Regis  to  let  Margaret  come  in  with  us,  and  take 
Miss  Tudor  in  her  daughter's  place.  And  I  think,  too,  that 
her  perception  of  fitness  was  a  nice  one,  every  way.  I  am 
sure  Emery  Ann  liked  it  better  so,  and  the  girls  are  never  tired 
of  her. 

Sunshine  belongs  to  Paris.  It  is  a  city  made  for  brightness  ; 
it  has  no  natural  relation  to  anything  else.  It  was  full  of  sun 
shine  to-day.  Its  clean,  airy,  open  squares,  its  splendid  arenues, 
its  tossing,  shimmering  fountains,  its  gardens  and  trees,  its  statues 
and  obelisks,  were  all  bathed  in  clear,  glad  light,  and  looked 
fresh  and  perfect,  as  if  created  of  the  very  day. 

We  passed  along  by  the  Palace  and  Garden  of  the  Tuileries, 
across  the  garden  front,  through  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  where 
the  obelisk  of  Luxor  stands  in  its  slender  might  of  beauty,  — 
(how  difficult  to  remember  that  the  guillotine  stood  here  once, 
when  it  was  the  Place  of  the  Revolution,  and  noble  and  beau 
tiful  heads  fell  down  into  the  horrible  basket,  and  blood  streamed 
instead  of  sparkling  waters  !)  where  the  shaded  avenues  on  the 
one  hand  run  directly  to  the  palace  front,  and  on  the  other  the 
Champs  Elysees  stretch  away  in  long  green  aisles  exactly  op 
posite,  so  that  Napoleon  used  to  sit  at  his  windows  and  look 
straight  out  to  the  Arch  of  Triumph  in  the  Place  of  the  Star. 

Then,  along  the  river  side,  and  beyond  the  walls,  battered 
with  the  shells  of  the  last  Revolution,  and  through  outskirts  yet 
lying  in  blackened  ruin  here  and  there,  by  the  villages  of  Issy 
and  Sevres,  —  the  narrow  streets  alive  with  a  life  quite  strange 


A   TALK;    AND   A   TRUSTING.  167 

to  us ;  men  in  blouses,  women  in  white  caps,  houses  and  hotels 
that  looked  to  us  more  as  if  they  had  come  out  of  pictures  than 
as  if  pictures  had  come  to  us  from  them,  —  we  drove,  and  gazed, 
and  enjoyed,  reveling  in  the  sunshine  and  the  novelty ;  the 
girls'  faces  glancing  out  at  us  from  their  carriage,  as  we  some 
times  drove  alongside  or  passed  each  other,  brimful  of  wonder 
and  excitement,  and  unspoken  "  Only  see  !  "s.  Emery  Ann  sat 
straight  up  and  made  a  business  of  everything. 

Mrs.  Regis  and  I  had  a  talk.  The  road  was  long,  and  there 
was  time.  She  began  rather  unexpectedly. 

"  I  think  you  are  in  Margaret's  confidence,  somewhat,  Miss 
Strong  ?  " 

"  Margaret  talks  to  me  a  little,"  I  answered  ;  wondering  how 
far  I  was  to  be  called  to  account,  or  cross-examined.  I  was 
neither. 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Margaret's  step-mother ;  and  her  tone 
was  genuine  and  kind. 

*'  Thank  you,"  said  I,  heartily. 

It  was  the  first  hearty  feeling  I  had  had  toward  her.  I  have 
told  you  truly  all  my  pre-judgments,  Rose  ;  it  was  the  right  way. 
You  shall  have  my  honest  after-judgments  also,  even  if  they 
shall  be  judgment  and  sentence  upon  myself. 

"  Margaret  does  not  quite  understand  me.  It  is  hardly  pos 
sible,  perhaps,  that  she  should.  Yet  there  is  n't  much  to  under 
stand.  I  am  not  deep  or  intricate,  —  any  more  than  human 
nature  always  is.  I  am  not  conscious  of  any  double  motives. 
I  am  placed  in  rather  a  peculiar  position,  and  I  wish  to  act 
for  every  one's  real  interest.  I  do  not  set  up  for  any  very 
exalted  generosities  or  perfect  self-devotion  ;  but  it  is  my  nature 
to  wish  that  things  should  go  well  with  people ;  as  far  at  least, 
as  I  can  see,  or  control.  I  have  not  thought  they  would  go  well 
with  Margaret,  if  she  married  Harry  Mackenzie.  I  am  thor 
oughly  comfortable  about  Helen." 

I  could  not  help  it ;  I  could  not  turn  it  out  of  my  head,  —  the 
the  idea  that  she  put  right  into  it  again.  She  must  be  thor 
oughly  comfortable.  And  she  could  not  be,  unless  it  went  tol 
erably  well  with  people.  As  far,  at  least,  as  she  could  see. 

Well,  —  why  was  n't  that  charity  ?     Could  she  expect  to  love 


168  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

her  neighbor  better  than  that  ?  I  boxed  my  own  ears  inwardly ; 
outwardly,  I  waited  calmly,  —  listening.  There  was  nothing  for 
me  to  reply  to. 

"  Margaret's  fortune  would  be  nothing  to  a  fellow  like  Harry 
Mackenzie,  though  I  dare  say  he  thinks  it  would.  Such  irre 
sponsible  people  always  think  everything  is  provided  for,  if  they 
can  see  a  few  hundred  —  or  thousand  —  dollars  ahead  ;  or  even 
if  their  bills  are  paid  up,  and  they  can  begin  on  a  clean  score. 
It  would  be  sure  not  to  last.  They  would  be  back  on  their 
friends  again  in  five  years.  I  do  not  mean  it  shall  be  so.  It  is 
just  what  Colonel  Regis  left  me  power  for." 

"  And  Margaret  would  rather  lose  her  money,"  said  I,  "  than 
give  him  up  for  the  sake  of  it.  There  is  a  temptation  to  her 
sense  of  nobleness  and  fidelity  in  the  very  alternative." 

"  Yes.  But  to  him  ?  That  is  what  I  have  been  waiting  for. 
If  it  does  not  happen  "  — 

"  You  will  consent  ?  You  will  make  the  best  of  it  ?  If  Mar 
garet  knew  that"  — 

"  I  never  meant  not  to  consent.  I  do  not  mean  to  take  her 
money  away  from  her.  But  I  shall  never  tell  her  I  approve  of 
such  a  marriage.  And  I  will  not  let  him  spend  her  little  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars.  I  have  the  power  to  secure  it  to  her,  as 
well  as  to  refuse  it ;  indeed,  by  refusing  it.  I  provided  for  that, 
—  and  at  the  same  time  put  so  much  quite  out  of  my  own 
hands,  —  before  I  sailed  from  home.  It  is  in  a  separate  trust,  — 
a  deed  of  my  own ;  —  that,  and  five  thousand  more,  my  wedding- 
gift,  —  to  be  held  for  her  in  case  she  forfeits  under  the  will  by 
marrying  without  my  formal,  written  consent ;  which,  given, 
however,  would  cancel  it,  and  return  my  own  to  me  again.  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  tell  you  this,"  she  added,  with  one  of  her 
smiles  that  she  can  make  gloriously  sweet,  —  '  because  there  is 
no  need  that  you  should  think  worse  of  me  than  the  truth.  I 
have  come  to  value  your  good  opinion.  Besides,  you  are  thrown 
intimately  with  both  of  us,  at  a  critical  time  ;  and  you  have  in 
fluence.  It  is  best  you  should  understand  us  both ;  and  I  feel 
sure  that  I  can  "  — 

I  thought  she  was  going  to  say,  "  I  can  trust  you."  Why 
did  she  not  finish?  Or  was  it  only  my  discretion  that  she 


A  TALK;    AND   A   TRUSTING.  169 

trusted  ?  I  saw  that  she  refrained  from  binding  me,  even  by 
implication. 

"  If  Margaret  knew  this,"  —  I  began  again,  and  again  broke 
off,  asking  a  question  instead.  "  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Mrs. 
Regis,  that  this  might  not  be  so  deep  a  thing  with  her  as  she 
supposes,  —  as  she  chooses  to  believe,  —  for  truth  and  nobleness' 
sake,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  You  think  she  might  change  ?  Yes,  —  she  might  have  an 
other  girl's  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Regis  ;  and  there  was  a  tinge  of 
bitter  slighting  in  her  words.  She  went  on  with  a  suddenly  dif 
ferent  tone. 

"  It  is  well  that  she  does  not  know.  Let  her  wait,  and  let 
him  prove  himself.  She  is  safe  while  she  waits.  Colonel 
Regis  distrusted  early  marriages.  He  had  seen  so  much  of 
them  in  the  army,  where  boys  marry  on  their  first  commis 
sion." 

"And  suppose  something  more  real  shows  her  to  herself  more 
plainly,  while  yet  she  feels  bound  ?  " 

I  could  not  stop  to  think,  though  her  words  sent  glimmers 
down  hidden  avenues  of  motive,  —  hidden,  I  believe,  even  from 
herself.  I  thought  afterward ;  then,  I  spoke ;  for  the  oppor 
tunity  might  not  return. 

"  I  hope  she  would  not  come  to  me  about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Regis, 
hastily.  "  I  might  object  again." 

I  remembered  what  Emery  Ann  said,  about  "  leaving  straws 
unput." 

"  I  think  you  would  be  bound  not  to  shut  your  eyes,"  I  said. 
"  The  responsibility  would  be  there  in  any  case." 

"  I  can  do  nothing  with  fine  subtleties,  and  shades  of  circum 
stance,"  said  Mrs.  Regis.  "  I  can  understand  a  positive  duty, 
or  a  positive  meanness.  I  can  do  one,  and  put  the  other  out  of 
my  power.  It  is  easier  to  do  things  once  for  all,  than  to  be  hav 
ing  little  separate  battles  with  separate  little  temptations  to  be 
selfish.  I  have  told  you  how  I  have  settled  the  money-question. 
I  have  trusted  you." 

She  said  it  now,  and  held  me  bound.  I  only  said,  "  I  thank 
you,  Mrs.  Regis.  I  think  you  have  been  generous."  And  we 
both  fell  silent  again. 


170  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

When  a  person  gives  you  knowledge  of  an  act,  with  its  mo 
tive  as  far  as  they  recognize  it  in  themselves,  something  in  you, 
—  something  in  me,  at  any  rate,  —  follows  the  clew  deeper,  and 
asks  just  such  questions  as  one  asks  of  one's  own  hidden,  far 
away  feeling  and  intent. 

Mrs.  Regis  had  done, — with  a  determination  to  be  just,  and 
to  defend  herself  from  possible  temptation, — a  thing  that  was 
certainly  generous.  It  was  a  brave  kind  of  cutting  away  her 
own  retreat.  But  is  that  the  very  bravest  and  truest?  To 
stand  fast  when  one  might  go  back,  —  to  know  that  one  means  so 
to  stand  fast,  come  what  will,  —  is  the  grander  thing  ;  just  as  it 
is  grander  to  bear  life  than  to  rush  on  death  with  a  reckless  im 
pulse.  She  was  a  nobler  woman  than  I  had  given  her  credit 
for  being ;  her  sense  of  "  comfortableness "  for  those  whose 
comfort  she  could  affect,  reached  farther  than  many  people's. 
It  was  very  thorough.  There  was  no  danger  of  her  grasping 
to  herself  in  the  little,  mean,  surface-fashion  that  some  do.  She 
was  not  the  common  woman  to  oppose  her  sxep-daughter,  just 
that  she  might  profit  by  the  forfeiture  of  a  disobedience.  But 
she  must  have  broad  margin  to  be  generous  in.  There  must  be 
easy-chairs  for  everybody.  She  would  carefully  enlarge  her 
phylacteries  against  the  demon  Self,  —  she  would  widen  all  bor 
ders  that  could  be  widened  with  facility.  She  could  do  it  here. 
Her  husband  had  left  plenty  of  money  for  them  all. 

But  what  if  she  had  to  make  room  by  crowding  back  her 
own  life?  What  if  it  should  come  to  one  thing,  that  one 
might  have,  and  not  another  ?  What  when  the  question  should 
concern  something  that  might  dawn  to  her  only  by  a  setting 
into  darkness  for  some  one  else,  —  for  some  one  younger,  to 
whom  the  night  should  be  longer?  Would  a  greater  noble 
ness  than  this  caring  for  her  neighbor  with  herself,  and  that  she 
might  be  free  to  care  for  self,  —  triumph  at  last  in  Mrs.  Regis's 
nature,  and  lift  it  up  once  and  forever  to  a  loftier  plane  ? 

She  looked  young  to-day.  Madame  Dash  wood  had  changed 
her  bonnet-cap  to  correspond  with  the  style  she  had  now 
adopted  for  home  wear.  She  had  put  in  just  one  of  those 
little  crimped  hems  that  are  beginning  to  be  worn  by  every 
body  ;  and  to  make  up  the  fullness  lost  with  the  white  rolls, 


A  TALK;  AND  A  TRUSTING.  171 

Mrs.  Regis  had  slightly  crdpe'd  her  beautiful  hair.  The  expres 
sion  of  the  widow's  cap,  becoming  as  it  had  been,  had  added  ten 
years  to  her  apparent  age.  I  could  see  now,  what  I  had  not 
supposed  before,  that  she  was  undoubtedly,  by  several  years, 
younger  than  myself,  and  at  this  moment  she  did  not  look  more 
than  thirty-five. 

There  was  time  enough,  —  there  was  reason  and  circumstance 
enough,  —  for  her  yet  to  find  an  experience  that  perhaps  she 
had  hitherto  missed ;  a  mightier  sweep,  and  search,  and  test 
through  her  nature,  might  come  upon  her  than  had  come  before 
in  all  the  smooth  procession  of  her  half-lived  years. 

What  had  been  in  Mrs.  Regis's  mind,  or  had  come  there,  in 
her  talk  to  me  ? 

Had  she  half  hoped,  at  first,  that  Margaret  might  learn, —  or 
get  an  intuition,  if  I  knew,  —  that  there  was  no  forfeiture  to 
avoid,  no  condition  to  wait  for  ?  Was  she  half  willing  to  let  it 
lisp  around  to  her,  if  it  came  in  my  way  to  deal  with  a  troubled, 
yet  unrelinquished  determination  ?  Would  she  leave  it  to  me 
at  discretion,  to  guide  and  suggest  accordingly,  —  to  see  that 
Margaret's  misconception  of  herself  should  not  go  too  far  toward 
utter  alienation,  or  her  stubborn,  resentful  waiting  embitter  and 
needlessly  waste  the  years  of  her  youth  ?  Might  I  say  to  Mar 
garet,  perhaps,  —  "  Have  courage.  Do  nothing  foolishly  ;  but 
tell  your  mother  plainly,  if  it  must  be  so,  what  you  resolve.  I 
do  not  think  she  will  do  you  any  wrong.  I  believe  you  and 
Harry  Mackenzie  may  trust  her  final  generosity  "  ?  Might  she 
not,  with  natural  feeling,  be  impelled  to  clear  herself  with  some 
one,  —  recoil,  after  all,  from  playing  to  the  end  the  ungracious 
part  she  had  attempted  for  Margaret's  good  ?  Was  this  it  ? 
And  —  was  this  all  ? 

But,  again,  if  this  knowledge,  —  that  there  was  no  grand  re 
nunciation  to  make,  —  no  faithfulness  to  her  word  to  vindicate 
with  the  loss  of  her  money,  —  no  need  of  being  "  good  for  what 
she  could  get  for  it," —  were  to  react  upon  Margaret's  self-con 
sciousness  to  show  her  how  little  other  vitality  there  had  been 
in  her  persistence  ;  were  to  leave  her  free  from  this  reflex  influ 
ence  to  measure  her  own  direct  feeling  and  find  it  wanting,  — 
what  then?  Did  Mrs.  Regis  suddenly  discern  that  this  was 
what  she  could  not  quite  heartily  desire? 


172  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

I  do  not  think  she  did,  plainly.  She  wanted  to  be  comfort 
able  about  Margaret ;  comfortable  about  her  life  as  passed  out 
from  her  own  farther  responsibility.  "  About,"  was  just  the 
word.  It  was  as  standing  in  that  which  \vas  left  undisturbed  to 
herself,  that  she  would  not  have  a  jar  come  upon  her  own  se 
renity  from  a  break  or  a  discord  elsewhere  that  she  should  first 
have  filled  or  prevented.  As  Emery  Ann  used  to  say,  when 
"  getting  things  off  her  mind,"  —  she  must  "  do  up  her  chores 
and  then  take  comfort."  But  she  did  not  enter  in  with  Marga 
ret,  and  discern  from  the  inner  side  the  very  truest  and  best 
for  her,  and  feel  her  own  comfort  identical  with  the  girl's  real, 
most  comprehensive  need.  That  comes  only  of  living  in  the 
spirit.  That  kind  of  sympathy  and  ministry  goes  forth  only  by 
prayer  and  fasting. 

So  when  the  indistinct  apprehension  crossed  Mrs.  Regis's  mind 
at  my  words,  that  a  full  knowledge  of  her  intentions  might  set 
Margaret  free  in  a  different  and  less  immediate  sense,  there 
came  with  it  the  indistinct  impulse  also,  to  bind  me  with  those 
words,  "  I  have  trusted  you." 

Margaret  was  "  safe  while  she  waited." 

Let  Harry  Mackenzie  prove  himself. 

I  began  to  feel  a  great  desire  for  an  interior  service  toward 
both  of  them,  —  mother  and  daughter.  I  thought  I  had  an  in 
sight  of  each  that  was  thus  far  only  partly  open  to  themselves. 
I  do  not  think  any  going  between  with  words,  or  information, 
from  and  about  each  other,  would  do  the  least  bit  of  such  a  ser 
vice.  I  had  been  made  to  feel  the  springs,  —  and  I  felt  them 
by  the  thrill  of  the  self-same  good  and  evil  in  myself,  —  that 
perhaps  I  might  touch  them  when  the  times  came ;  the 
"  chances,"  that  were  still  as  Emery  Ann  had  said,  "  not  my 
business."  I  was  so  glad  of  that ! 

Sitting  beside  Mrs.  Regis  after  our  talk  ended,  words  came 
into  my  mind  like  a  message  of  new  meaning. 

"  He  maketh  his  angels  spirits ;  his  ministers  a  flame  of  fire." 
As  we  live  into  our  angelhood,  Rose, —  and  you  know  what  I 
mean  by  that ;  as  we  live  the  life  and  do  the  errands  of  the 
Kingdom  in  ever  such  weak  or  little  ways,  —  we  find  out  more 
and  more  that  we  are  set  to  work  in  the  unseen.  He  maketh 


A  TALK;    AND  A  TRUSTING.  173 

us  spirits.  He  shows  us  a  directer  and  solemuer  dealing  than 
by  mere  act,  or  word,  or  circumstance.  He  takes  us  in  toward 
where  He  is  Himself;  He  gives  us  something  of  his  own  close 
ness  to  apprehend  by  ;  to  love  and  serve  by.  And  his  ministers 
He  makes  a  flame  of  fire.  Bearers  and  kindlers,  by  that  lighted 
upon  them  as  a  tongue  from  his  own  infinite  Heart-blaze,  of 
the  fire  of  a  true  life  to  souls ;  and  so  helpers  to  the  fusing  of 
the  outward  form  of  living  into  his  own  true  and  perfect  cir 
cumstance.  In  the  thought  of  this  real  and  only  ministering, 
how  we  need  to  fast  from  the  small  and  the  distracting,  and  pray 
at  the  inner  doors  that  they  may  be  opened  to  us  ! 

My  "  chance  "  did  not  fully  come  then.  I  did  not  feel  that  it 
was  ready,  though  I  returned  in  one  word  to  the  subject,  just  as 
we  drove  into  the  stately  approach  to  Versailles. 

The  thing  I  said  was  just  what  Margaret  had  said  to  me.  I 
did  not  say  it,  though ;  I  put  it  as  a  question. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Mrs.  Regis,  that  these  '  conditions '  are  a 
block  between  you,  altering  and  separating  your  relations  ? 
Don't  they  make  it  that  Margaret  has  n't  a  mother  to  go  to,  so 
much  as  a  guardian,  an  imposer  of  terms?  If  you  were  to 
tell  her  what  you  have  told  me,  would  n't  you  gain  the  real  in 
fluence  which  these  provisions  destroy  by  their  very  intention 
to  secure  ?  Would  n't  you  be  able  to  enter  in,  with  real  knowl 
edge  and  sympathy,  to  Margaret's  wants,  and  live  her  life  with 
her  ?  " 

I  spoke  rapidly.     I  wanted  to  say  it  out. 

Mrs.  Regis  answered  from  away  off". 

"  I  do  not  think  I  could.  I  do  not  understand  such  things. 
It  seems  to  me  we  have  all  enough  to  do  to  live  our  own  lives. 
I  can  advise  Margaret.  I  can  use  authority  as  well  as  I  know 
how.  And  I  can  provide  for  her,  even  against  her  willfulness, 
or  my  own  change  of  mind.  I  do  not  think  more  can  be  ex 
pected  of  me." 

Here  we  came  upon  the  Boulevard  de  la  Reine. 

So  that  ended  it. 

Another  way  in  which  the  putting  down  of  things  in  this  post- 
fact  fashion  does  me  good,  Rose,  is  in  the  look  I  get  at  them 
myself  at  a  farther  and  clearer  focus.  Day  by  day  journalizing 


174   .  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

would  not  help  me  so ;  for  I  should  never  go  back  and  read  it 
over  again.  Our  inward  sight  changes,  I  fancy,  like  the  out 
ward,  as  we  grow  older,  —  which  inwardly  should  be  wiser,  — 
and  we  see  things  better  holding  them  a  little  way  off.  I  never 
did  care  very  much  to  set  down  the  day's  life  while  it  was  raw. 
I  would  n't  even  keep  my  traveling  memoranda  so.  And  a 
journal  is  never  kept  for  one's  self.  If  I  were  not  going  to  send 
it  to  you,  I  would  not  keep  it  anyway.  I  should  hate  the  spir 
itual  Mrs.  Grundy  that  I  should  feel  looking  over  my  shoulder, 
if  I  could  not  think  of  some  one  real  and  personal  as  I  write  it. 

But  I  am  not  very  far  behindhand,  either,  —  in  time.  We 
have  only  been  five  weeks  in  Europe,  after  all.  It  is  the  things 
that  fill  up,  and  keep  me  following  after.  I  shall  catch  up  pres 
ently,  in  spite  of  my  theory.  Well,  then,  we  will  try  the  other 
advantage,  —  of  some  instant  impressions.  I  am  not  bigoted,  — 
which  is,  sworn  (you  can  see  the  swear  in  the  word) — to  one 
idea.  We  shall  have  two  kinds,  —  and  a  mixture,  —  before  we 
get  through  ;  like  Hans  Andersen's  milk-pitcher  when  it  took 
sausage.  "  Milk  and  sausage,  and  sausage  broth,"  in  our  "  Book 
of  Europe,"  which  you  say  you  are  going  to  have  bound  (for 
private  circulation  between  us  two),  and  call  "  Patience  Strong's 
Story  of  Over  the  Way."  Very  good ;  but  who  shall  be  the 
bookbinder  ?  I  'm  afraid  he  '11  stop  to  read.  Never  mind  ; 
he  '11  only  think  it  is  a  made-up  story  that  could  n't  get  printed. 
And  what  lots  of  stories  are  made  up,  that  if  they  actually 
grew  out  of  facts  in  the  form  in  which  they  come  to  the  count 
ers,  would  be  base,  unblushing  betrayals  —  of  what  no  human 
creature  could  possibly  ever  have  known  to  betray  ! 

How  do  you  know  I  am  not  making  up  ?     Play  that  I  am. 

I  could  not  make  up  Versailles,  though. 

How  small  the  carriages  looked,  that  we  saw  going  up  and 
down  this  splendid  avenue !  In  its  vast  breadth,  they  were  like 
tiny  toys.  There  is  something  in  these  great  spaces  that  great 
people  have  made  for  themselves  to  move  and  dwell  in,  that  I 
should  think  would  have  continually  turned  back  upon  them, 
showing  them  that  they  were  not  great,  but  very  little  after  all. 
The  gilt  coaches  that  I  saw  afterward  in  the  Musee  de  Voitures, 
made  it  seem  still  more  like  petty  play.  A  man  or  a  woman, 


A   TALK;    AND   A   TRUSTING.  175 

with  all  that  either  can  be  surrounded  with,  does  not  take  up  so 
very  much  room  in  the  world.  Their  own  environments  widen 
out  into  a  kind  of  satire.  • 

But  there  is  another  way  of  looking  at  it,  also.  Take  away 
the  coaches,  and  forget  about  the  person  ;  and  think  of  that 
which  reaches  out  and  makes  its  sphere  in  a  wide  state  and  ex 
pression,  and  the  very  diminutiveness  of  the  visible  presence 
emphasizes  the  power.  The  heart  of  things  has  nothing  to  do 
with  space.  The  days  of  the  giants  were  not  the  days  of  the 
grandest  humanity.  Worlds  themselves,  turn  upon  the  pivot  of 
a  point. 

The  thought  of  this  traces  itself  back  to  the  awful,  the  un 
speakable  ;  the  hiding  and  the  showing  of  the  Divine. 

Behind  all  circles  of  law  and  of  creation,  —  far  within  all 
outward  vastness,  —  the  central  Life-Point,  —  the  I- Am. 

Whose  coming  forth,  even,  is  not  in  circumference ;  for  the 
Holy  Ghost  descended  in  a  form  like  a  dove.  The  Lord  was 
upon  the  earth  in  the  form  of  a  man. 

Under  the  poorest  earthly  semblance,  lies  that  upon  which 
even  semblance  forms  itself,  and  wherein  it  finds  its  power  to 
touch  us ;  we  wonder  at  the  thrill  in  us,  till  we  feel  back  by  it 
to  the  everlasting  truth  that  it  was  born  in. 

I  leave  you  here,  as  the  stories  do,  upon  a  threshold. 


176  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

PLEASURES  AND  PALACES. 


....  THREE  grand  avenues  run  together  into  the  great 
Place  d'Armes,  from  which  the  palace  gates  open,  upon  its  front. 
The  middle  approach  is  the  Avenue  de  Paris.  Right  and  left 
are  the  avenues  of  St.  Cloud  and  Sceaux.  The  Boulevard  de 
la  Reiue  is  aside  from  all,  skirting  the  park  on  the  right  or 
north  side,  and  passing,  a  little  way  down,  into  the  Avenue  de 
Trianon,  which  starts  out  from  the  Alley  of  the  Fountains  at  the 
northeast  front  of  the  pleasure-grounds.  The  Trianons  lie  to 
the  northeast,  communicating  with  the  centre  of  the  palace 
grounds  by  the  Queen's  Alley. 

We  were  driven  direct  along  the  boulevard  and  avenue,  past 
the  palace  and  park  quite  away  ou  our  left,  to  the  gateway  of 
the  Trianons,  where  we  alighted,  and  joined  a  party  just  form 
ing  in  its  turn,  with  a  fresh  guide,  for  the  seeing  of  the  interior 
of  the  larger  Villa. 

We  were  led  through  sumptuous  rooms,  —  suite  after  suite  ; 
royal  bed-chambers,  —  halls  hung  with  pictures,  which  the 
guide,  in  tolerably  slow  and  very  sonorous  French,  explained  to 
us,  but  which  I  must  skip  with  you,  as  nothing  really  stopped 
or  held  me  fast,  and  nobody  had  time  to  stop  if  they  would ; 
through  apartments  splendidly  fitted  up  for  Queen  Victoria's  visit 
to  the  late  Emperor,  but  which  for  some  reason  she  did  not  oc 
cupy  ;  into  the  Malachite  room,  where  stands  the  enormous  basin 
of  that  precious  mineral  given  by  the  Emperor  of  Russia  to 
Napoleon  First ;  and  came  swiftly  out  again  from  all,  with  very 
confused  impressions,  into  the  open  air  and  around  to  the 
"  Musee  de  Voitures,"  which  is  between  the  Great  and  Little 
Trianons. 


PLEASURES,  AND  PALACES.  177 

Here  are  the  state  carriages,  blazing  with  gilding  and  color, — 
gaudy  with  silk  and  velvet,  —  and  the  splendid  horse  trappings, 
heavy  with  ornament,  used  by  different  monarchs  from  the  be 
ginning  of  the  First  Empire. 

"  Puss  in  Boots,  and  the  Marquis  of  Carabas  ! "  said  Emery 
Ann,  to  me,  as  we  walked  round  the  alley. 

They  did  look  like  those  old  red  and  yellow  pictures  in  the 
fairy  tales.  The  Old  "World  has  n't  quite  got  out  of  the  ten- 
cent  story-books  yet.  Are  we,  in  the  New  World,  just  getting 
into  them  ? 

How  can  I  take  you  by  the  hand,  Rose,  and  lead  you  right 
into  the  pleasance  of  the  Little  Trianon  ? 

You  turn  off  from  the  large  Villa  through  an  avenue  called 
the  Alley  of  the  Two  Trianons,  which  runs  across  a  corner  to 
ward  the  public  avenue  of  Saint  Antoine;  from  the  alley  you 
go  through  a  gateway,  and  are  forthwith  lost  in  a  lovely  wilder 
ness,  in  which  you  can  only  follow  what  seems  the  broadest 
track,  or  the  groups  of  saunterers  finding  their  way  like  your 
self;  unless,  indeed,  you  trust  to  chance  for  what  you  may  come 
to,  and  choose,  as  we  did,  to  lose  yourself  away  from  the  crowd. 

Deep  glades  of  green,  —  broken  rocks  picturesquely  left  or 
planted,  —  clear  water-trickles  tumbling  into  cascades,  —  still 
little  hideaway  nooks  which  you  wonder  if  any  of  the  other 
people  have  found,  or  if  Marie  Antoinette  herself  ever  knew  of; 
simple  little  bridges,  and  dark,  overhung  pools ;  intricate  foot 
paths,  surprises  of  tiny  pavilions  or  rustic  seats,  wild  flowers 
spotting  the  soft  turf  and  cherished  in  their  own  wildness ; 
sweetest  little  harebells,  and  patches  where  you  know  in  spring 
the  ground  would  be  blue  with  violets ;  birds  singing  softly  to 
the  stir  of  the  woods  and  the  tinkle  of  the  dropping  waters ;  — 
what  sort  of  little  buried  Paradise  have  you  come  into,  straight 
away  from  those  gorgeous  palace  fronts  and  bedizened  saloons 
and  the  museum  of  gilded  equipages?  You  have  lost  sight, 
too,  of  sentinels  and  guides ;  they  have  turned  you  in  and  left 
you  to  yourself,  as  far  as  you  can  perceive.  You  are  getting 
just  what  the  king  and  queen  and  their  fine  people  came  away 
for ;  the  best  thing  they  had  among  it  all. 
12 


178  SIGHTS   AND  , INSIGHTS. 

Suddenly,  if  there  is  no  one  to  tell  you,  —  and  nobody  told 
us,  —  you  happen  upon  a  house;  dark,  low,  rustic-built,  with 
overhanging  gallery  and  latticed  windows,  —  still,  like  a  tomb, 
and  you  know  that  this  is  Marie  Antoinette's  Swiss  Cottage.  A 
little  way  off,  down  in  a  hollow  where  they  made  a  stream  run 
once  that  is  all  stagnant  now  —  a  wheel  hangs  motionless,  and 
the  tangling  vines  and  branches  grow  over  it,  and  climb  into 
the  casements  and  time-rents  of  Louis's  mill.  Then  you  go  on 
and  come  to  the  dairy,  through  whose  windows  you  can  look  at 
the  very  tables  where  the  milk-pans  stood  or  the  butter  was 
moulded ;  and  all  the  time,  the  hollow  hush  and  the  darkness 
are  saying  to  you  what  they  said  among  the  marbles  in  West 
minster  Abbey,  —  that  the  "  pretty  lady,"  like  Mary  Stuart, 
"has  been  dead  a  long  while." 

Wandering  on  by  a  long  pathway  under  a  bank  of  grass  and 
flowers,  and  shaded  with  old  trees,  we  came  all  at  once  out  of 
the  wildness  and  seclusion  into  open  parterres  blazing  with 
garden  bloom ;  where  a  fountain  played,  and  white  statues 
stood  against  the  dense  green  boundary,  where  the  sun  streamed 
along  the  flower  beds  and  drew  up  into  the  air  a  heavy,  sweet 
perfume ;  and  clouds  of  butterflies,  —  those  creatures  made  to 
express  pure  ecstacy,  with  only  just  body  enough  to  hold  two 
wings  together,  —  wavered  and  tossed  in  it  deliriously  ;  where 
palace-walls,  —  dingy  white,  now,  these  walls  of  the  old  pleas 
ure  palace,  —  rose  up  beyond  the  green  ;  where  the  past  looked 
dead  again  by  signs  that  could  keep  no  life  in  them  like  woods 
and  waters,  and  the  growth  and  blossom  were  once  more  the 
growth  and  blossom  of  to-day,  —  splendid  and  luxurious,  yet 
still  most  exquisitely  beautiful;  and  so  we  got  back  into  the 
world  again  out  of  the  dim,  sad,  delicious  dream ;  and  we  passed 
the  gates  as  if  they  had  been  the  gates  of  sleep,  and  found  our 
selves  outside,  awake,  and  our  carriages  waiting. 

Down  the  long,  flanking  avenues  again,  into  the  public  bou 
levard;  then  stopping  at  a  side  entrance,  we  crossed  a  mall  and 
a  kind  of  open  park,  and  came  to  the  vast  paved  quadrangle, 
on  three  sides  of  which  the  front  and  wings  of  the  Chateau 
stretch  themselves,  and  on  the  fourth  the  great  sculptured  Vic 
tory-pillars  make  the  main  gateway  opening  down  into  the 
Place  of  Arms. 


PLEASURES  AND   PALACES.  179 

Inside,  colossal  statues  guard  the  approach  with  presences  of 
the  past ;  knights,  marshals,  cardinals,  constables,  generals ; 
Bayard,  Richelieu,  Turenne,  the  Great  Conde;  in  the  midst, 
a  bronze  equestrian  statue  of  Louis  XIV. 

Am  I  getting  guide-booky?  I  only  tell  what  it  needed  no 
guide-book  to  arrest  the  thought  to.  As  we  walked  up  the 
great  space,  our  steps  measured  to  us  with  some  fatigue  its 
wide  extent,  and  we  felt  the  grand  proportions  of  figures  that 
could  look  grand  there. 

But  we  recollected,  among  these,  the  different  presence  that 
filled  this  great  court-yard,  whea  the  populace  streamed  out  from 
Paris  to  mob  their  king  and  queen  in  their  own  palace ;  when 
fierce,  dreadful  faces  were  uplifted  to  those  windows  from  a  wild, 
surging  crowd,  and  horrid  voices  shouted  hateful  cries ;  when 
with  furious  persistence  they  called  forth  the  poor,  beautiful 
queen  upon  that  balcony  only  to  insult  her  ;  and  then  burst  in, 
murdering  her  guards,  and  forced  themselves  to  her  presence 
and  the  king's  in  their  private  rooms,  raging  and  threatening, 
till  the  gentle  monarch,  expostulating  patiently  with  his  "  chil 
dren,"  promised  to  return  to  the  Tuileries  and  take  up  his  abode 
among  his  dear  Parisians. 

We  went  in  upon  the  south  side.  I  climbed  the  wide  stair 
case  with  a  bewildered  feeling  of  not  knowing  in  the  •least  what 
part  of  the  palace  world  we  should  come  up  into ;  I  found  out 
afterward,  by  studying  over  the  plan,  where  we  had  been,  what 
little  corner  we  had  seen,  and  what  we  had  missed  and  left  un 
known  as  much  as  if  it  had  all  been  in  Nineveh,  instead  of 
under  one  roof  with  the  bit  —  the  immense,  exhausting  bit  — 
we  traversed. 

We  got  up  into  the  second  floor  of  the  south  wing.  I  don't 
see  now,  exactly,  from  the  plan  in  Baedeker,  how  we  got  there 
from  the  court-yard.  But  some  of  Baedeker's  plans  have  solid 
walls  across  where  doorways  are.  I  shall  undertake  to  tell 
nothing  but  what  I  do  see,  in  a  plain  remembrance. 

We  came  into  the  long  gallery  of  sculptures  and  busts ;  there 
iij  another  beneath  it  which  we  passed  by  in  ascending ;  they 
run  down  the  wing,  almost  its  entire  length.  Here  was  every 
body  that  ever  had  been,  one  would  think ;  the  marble  faces 


180  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

looked  down  on  either  hand  from  bracket  and  pedestal,  throug- 
ing  upon  us  without  pause,  so  as  no  human  interest  or  recogni 
tion  could  take  in  more  than  one  here  or  there,  to  be  replaced 
and  obliterated  in  the  mind  almost  instantly. 

"  Are  you  realizing  your  history  ?  "  I  said  to  Edith.  It  was 
what  the  Atlantic  Ocean  had  been  to  our  geography. 

There  is  a  feeling  you  cannot  get  rid  of,  as  you  plan  and 
pursue  your  journeyings,  that  you  are  somehow  stepping  about 
on  a  map  all  the  time,  instead  of  what  the  map  is  made  from ; 
and  in  these  great  galleries  you  travel  down  the  pages  of  the 
years,  that  you  have  read  —  or -skipped;  and  the  white  appa 
ritions  look  forth  at  you  with  a  bewildering  recognition  or  a 
yet  more  confounding  reproach.  I  comforted  myself  with 
what  Sismondi  said  to  Catherine  Sedgwick,  when  she  set  him 
right  upon  a  point  of  history.  "  For  me,  madame,  the  reare 
two  kinds  of  history ;  that  which  I  have  written  and  forgot 
ten,  and  that  which  I  never  wrote,  and  never  knew." 

What  you  live,  —  or  what  you  trace  out  carefully  with  a 
connected  interest  and  motive ;  what  you  work  in,  —  that  is, 
and  perhaps  remains ;  nothing  else.  For  this  reason,  I  think 
Europe,  with  its  repositories  of  all  art  and  history,  is  an  Ency 
clopedia  to  go  to  for  definite  purposes  of  research ;  not  a  picture- 
book  or  a  story,  that  one  can  run  through  from  end  to  end  at  a 
single  dash. 

"  There  's  crowds  of  'em,  is  n't  there  ?  "  said  Emery  Ann. 
"  And  I  presume  they  've  all  had  a  hand  in  it." 

"  In  what  ?  "  asked  Edith  ;  though  I  suppose  she  understood. 
She  likes  to  get  the  whole  from  Emery  Ann. 

"  In  the  A-apple-pie  ; "  returned  Emery  Ann.  "  In  the  mak 
ing,  and  baking,  and  —  partly  —  in  the  eating  up.  They  've 
had  their  mouthful,  and  gone.  I  know  that ;  though  I  don't 
know  who  half  of  them  were,  or  where  they  took  their  bite." 

"  They  keep  all  they  can,  over  here,"  she  said  to  me  after 
ward,  "  don't  they  ?  But  to  think  of  the  worldfuls  that  never 
could  be  saved  up  !  " 

The  brimming,  whirling  globe  !  That  has  been  filled  and 
emptied  of  life  and  action  by  the  worldful !  It  was  a  keen 
word  of  Emery  Ann's ;  it  made  you  think  of  ages  measured 


PLEASURES   AND    PALACES.  181 

out  and  poured  away  into  space.  Yes  ;  the  inapprehensible 
mass  that  remains,  and  these  wonderful  kings'  treasuries  of 
them,  in  record,  sign,  memorial,  —  only  hint  at  the  infinite 
stream  of  event,  over  which  the  mist  of  its  own  upworking  has 
to  be  let  fall. 

We  came  out  at  the  end  of  the  wing  into  a  corner  room  ;  the 
Room  of  1830  ;  where  the  walls  are  covered  with  large  pict 
ures  of  scenes  of  the  Revolution  of  July ;  Louis  Philippe, 
Duke  of  Orleans,  arriving  at  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  Lafayette 
standing  bareheaded  at  the  entrance,  —  his  proclamation  as 
Lieutenant-General  of  the  Kingdom  ;  his  oath  of  fidelity  before 
the  Chambers ;  his  giving  of  the  flags  to  the  National  Guard. 

Here  was  where  we  began  to  remember ;  here  was  history 
made  since  some  of  us  were  born ;  we  stayed  longer  in  this 
room  than  in  almost  any  other,  though  the  pictures,  as  works  of 
art,  are  not  very  much  to  stay  for. 

Then  we  left  it  by  a  door  upon  the  same  side  as  that  by 
which  we  had  entered  from  the  gallery  of  sculptures  and  busts  ; 
and  found  ourselves  in  a  parallel  gallery,  which  took  us  back 
again  along  the  immense  wing  to  the  main  structure. 

This  is  the  "  Gallery  of  Battles  "  ;  filled  with  modern  paintings, 
glowing  with  color  and  action,  representing  great  war  scenes, 
old  and  recent,  from  Ary  Scheffer's  "  Battle  of  Tolbiac,"  what 
ever  that  was,  in  496,  to  Austerlitz,  and  Jena,  and  Friedland; 
these  last  two  by  Vernet.  Our  own  siege  of  Yorktown  in 
America,  by  the  army  under  Rochambeau  and  Washington, 
covers  one  great  space  ;  and  directly  opposite  is  the  picture  of 
Joan  of  Arc  raising  the  siege  of  Orleans.  Neither  of  these 
are  marked  with  "stars  "  in  Baedeker,  but  they  kept  me  by  the 
interest  of  their  subjects,  and  I  was  pleased  that  they  hung 
over  against  each  other. 

Turning,  through  small  chambers  opening  the  one  from  the 
other,  around  the  angle  of  the  wing  with  the  main  edifice  toward 
the  front,  we  came  into  the  room  to  which  I  shall  always  go 
back  to  stand  in  recollection,  as  long  as  I  remember  Versailles. 

It  is  the  Room  of  the  Coronation  of  Napoleon  ;  that  is,  the 
room  where  David's  great  picture  of  the  Coronation  hangs. 

The  Emperor,  just  crowned  himself,  is  placing  the  Imperial 
diadem  with  his  own  hands  on  Josephine's  head. 


182  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

The  splendid  groups  in  the  dim,  magnificent  cathedral,  —  the 
trailing  robes,  the  priestly  grandeur  of  canonicals,  the  gathered 
glory  of  the  regalia,  —  all  these  but  frame  in  the  real  picture ; 
the  act,  the  moment,  that  lives  there,  as  all  acts  and  moments 
live,  whether  there  is  a  David  to  paint  them  on  a  canvas  or 
not 

We  all  stood  before  it,  silent.  We  were  not  looking  at  a 
canvas ;  we  were  entered  in  to  that  moment  of  history  and 
truth. 

We  say  sometimes  of  some  high  crisis,  —  some  point  when 
life  makes  itself  illustrative  and  dramatic,  and  draws  to  its  full 
expression  all  type  and  surrounding  of  beauty,  or  solemnity,  or 
tenderness,  — "  How  brief!  how  instantly  ended  and  passed  by ! 
How  quickly  the  marriage-ring  is  put  on,  and  the  bride,  in  her 
white  veil,  gone  down  from  the  altar  !  How  soon  the  flowers 
are  put  aside,  and  the  prayer  finished,  and  the  beautiful  dead 
face  shut  away  !  " 

There  are  minutes  so  holy  and  so  heartful,  —  so  grand  or  so 
heroic,  —  that  it  seems  as  if  they  ought  to  be  arrested  in  their 
dearness,  or  sacredness,  or  sublimity,  until  the  long  procession 
of  the  generations  should  all  pass  by  to  feel  and  see  ;  and  so, 
the  painter  and  the  sculptor  work  to  keep  these  scenes  as  if  they 
were  alive ;  and  we  look  at  the  statue  or  the  picture,  and  forget 
that  only  because  the  moment  is  forever*  alive,  it  can  be  so  put 
down.  Not  to  keep  it,  but  to  show  that  it  cannot  die,  —  that  it 
is  an  eternity,  in  a  point  of  time,  —  is  the  story  put  in  marble 
or  in  color. 

"  Napoleon  always  crowned  her  in  his  heart,"  said  Margaret 
to  me,  after  our  long  gazing. 

"And  that  moment  never  was — never  could  be  —  taken 
away  from  her,"  I  answered.  "  She  stood  there  at  the  height 
of  her  life  ;  and  in  the  focus  of  its  showing.  She  came  no 
more  out  of  it  when  she  came  away  from  Napoleon's  palace, 
than  she  did  when  she  walked  down  the  aisle  of  Notre  Dame 
that  day.  Whatever  really  has  been,  always  is.  That  is  what 
they  paint  it  for." 

On  the  other  wall,  is  another  of  the  living  moments ;  Napo 
leon  giving  the  Eagles  to  his  Army.  That  is  what  is  alive  to 


PLEASURES  AND  PALACES.  183 

this  instant  in  the  hearts  of  Frenchmen ;  but  the  crowning  of 
Josephine  is  alive  in  the  heart  of  the  world. 

I  think  there  is  some  picture  on  the  side  between  the  doors,  of 
the  second  empress-ship ;  something  about  poor  Marie  Louise, 
whose  part  of  the  story  was  one  of  those  riddles,  real  on  the 
one  side,  —  or  at  least  standing  for  the  reality  of  life  to  one,  — 
and  a  mere  dead  appendix  to  the  other.  One  hardly  notices  it, 
wherever  it  is,  after  beholding  the  first,  except  to  sigh  over  the 
inexplicability. 

Emery  Ann  hates  all  second  marriages,  and  people  who  make 
them.  Of  course  she  has  no  patience  with  Napoleon. 

She  said  to  me, —  "  I  wonder  what  they  make  of  it !  I  won 
der  what  people  expect,  if  they  believe  in  the  other  world,  and 
finding  each  other  again,  and  being  just  as  they  were  ! " 

"  They  won't  be  just  as  they  were  n't"  said  I. 

"  Well,  that 's  a  comfort !  "  she  said,  with  emphasis.  "  They  '11 
have  considerable  to  pick  out,  though,  anyway,  of  this  world's 
stitches.  And  I  'd  full  rather  not  be  set  to  rip,  as  soon  as  I  get 
there." 

And  with  her  bonnet  exalted,  she  walked  along  into  the 
"  Little  Apartments  of  Marie  Antoinette." 

From  these,  through  an  ante-chamber,  we  reached  the  long, 
splendid  gallery  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  stretching  across  the 
whole  garden  front  of  the  palace,  and  overlooking  the  wide, 
sunny  parterres,  and  the  orangery ;  the  alleys,  the  fountains, 
the  basins,  the  bosquets,  the  statues,  and  all  the  interminable 
loveliness  of  the  park  and  pleasure-grounds,  lying  fair  before  us 
as  we  stood  in  the  deep  windows,  —  as  fair  as  it  did  before  the 
Bourbons  two  hundred  years  ago. 

We  glanced  in  at  the  sleeping  chamber  of  Louis  Fourteenth, 
opening  from  this  gallery ;  and  saw  the  high,  broad,  square,  old- 
tapestried  bed.  Opposite  to  the  gallery  runs  the  balcony  of  the 
bed-chamber,  looking  into  the  Palace  Court,  from  which  the  fa 
mous  announcement,  —  "  Le  roi  est  mort,"  —  "Vive  le  roi !  " 
sounded  to  the  people  at  the  hour  he  died.  Upon  which,  also, 
the  unhappy  Marie  Antoinette  stood  forth  to  be  jeered  at  on 
the  night  of  horror,  —  the  night  of  the  5th  of  October,  1789. 


184  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

"We  were  tired  out.  We  were  deadened  to  splendor, —  almost 
to  pathos  and  association.  We  wished  there  had  not  been  so 
many  kings ;  even  that  there  never  had  been  so  many  statues 
and  pictures.  We  went  through  the  apartments  of  Louis  Six 
teenth,  down  the  north  side  of  the  main  building ;  reached  the 
grand  staircase  opposite  to  that  which  we  had  ascended  in  the 
south  angle,  and  returned  to  the  great  court ;  crossed  wearily  to 
the  Victory  gate,  and  walked  out  to  wait  under  the  trees  of  the 
boulevard  for  our  "  voiture  "  to  come  and  find  us  as  we  had 
ordered. 

Speechless  with  fatigue,  I  sat  there  on  a  bench,  and  thought 
how  sight-seeing  was  like  living.  Eager,  full,  beautiful,  won 
derful,  for  a  while ;  then  one  begins  to  ache,  in  the  midst  of 
one's  pursuit  and  desire  ;  suddenly  there  is  a  great  deal  too 
much  of  it,  and  we  can  do  and  receive  no  more  ;  we  creep 
gladly  into  a  shady  corner,  and  wait  for  our  carriage  to  take  us 
away. 

The  next  day,  our  last  in  Paris,  we  went  to  the  Church  of 
the  Madeleine;  a  suitable  sequence  to  our  Versailles  visits,  I 
thought ;  seeing  that  it  was  interrupted  in  the  building  by  the 
great  Revolution,  —  was  changed  in  intent  by  the  First  Na 
poleon  to  a  Temple  of  Glory,  and  finally  continued  by  Louis 
Eighteenth  as  a  church  of  expiation,  in  memory  of  Louis  XVI., 
Louis  XVII.,  Marie  Antoinette,  and  Madame  Elizabeth.  Cue 
wonders,  however,  whether  the  "  expiatory  "  dedication  was  in 
tended  in  penitence  for  the  selfish  intrigues  of  the  Count  de 
Provence  himself,  or  for  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  his  unfor 
tunate  relations. 

Emery  Ann  would  not  go.  "  I  can't  take  things  so  rapid," 
said  she.  "  I  '11  stay  at  home  and  let  my  mind  settle,  and  pack 
the  trunks.  I  feel  now,  almost,  as  if  the  top  of  my  head 'wan  ted 
new  shingling."  And  with  that,  she  tossed  out,  vehemently,  the 
contents  of  a  square  box  that  we  keep  for  "  transients."  It  is  a 
very  queer,  and  a  very  certain  thing,  that  although  one  wears  a 
traveling-dress,  and  takes  out  nothing  but  essentials  from  her 
luggage,  during  a  few  days  of  temporary  stay  in  a  place,  the 
whole  "  pack,"  pretty  nearly,  has  to  be  gone  over  again  in 


PLEASURES   AND   PALACES.  185 

getting  ready  for  another  move  and  a  different  —  prospective  — • 
stop.  We  repacked  in  Liverpool ;  we  repacked  in  London  ;  we 
repacked  in  Dover ;  we  repacked  here.  Everything  has  to  be 
on  the  top,  and  everything  gets  to  the  bottom  in  the  process. 
"We  shall  begin  to  be  happy  when  we  get  to  the  mule-traveling 
among  the  mountains,  and  take  nothing  but  bags  and  shawls. 
You  never  want  more  than  a  bagful  anywhere ;  the  trouble  is 
that  it  has  to  be  a  different  bagful. 

A  knock  came  at  the  door,  and  the  white-frilled  cap  and  good- 
natured  face  of  the  femme  de  chambre  looked  in  :  — 

"  Est-ce  que  madame  a  sonne*  ? "  she  asked,  for  certainly  the 
fifteenth  time  that  we  had  n't,  in  the  four  days  we  had  been 
there. 

"  No  !  It  est-n't  que  !  "  said  Emery  Ann,  shortly,  with  her 
head  in  the  trunk. 

"  We  must  rest  again  when  we  get  to  Switzerland,"  I  said  to 
myself.  "  Edith  looks  pale,  and  Emery  Ann  is  cross ;  cross 
enough  to  get  it  into  French,  —  which  is  equivalent  to  a  certain 
disguised  style  of  swearing ;  and  I,  —  well,  I  feel  also  mentally 
dyspeptic,  as  if  I  had  swallowed  a  century  or  two  in  a  most  un 
wholesome  hurry." 

And  yet  see  how  little  we  had  done  ! 

I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  the  Massachusetts  State  House 
is  approached  by  three  broad  and  lofty  flights  of  terraced  steps, 
and  is  surmounted  by  a  great  dome  of  beautiful  proportions,  as 
to  remind  you  of  the  exquisite  architecture  of  the  Madeleine, 
standing  veiled  within  its  superb  surrounding  columns, — a  lit 
eral  "  pillared  shade."  You  know  it  familiarly  ;  and  yet  I  know 
it  a  little  better  now ;  and  the  meaning  of  this  and  other  like 
things  comes  to  me  in  ways  I  had  not  thought  much  of,  until  I 
stood  actually  before  them. 

The  reason  why  they  built  these  churches,  and  called  them  by 
their  distinguishing  names  ;  the  idea  that  underlies  the  dedica 
tion  and  harmony  of  adornment ;  I  begin  to  trace  this,  and 
delight  in  looking  for  it ;  though  doubtless,  like  many  other  gen 
uine  and  vital  initial  thoughts,  I  shall  often  find  it  utterly  mixed 
»nd  lost,  as  are  the  ideas  of  Art  themselves,  in  the  decadence 


186  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

which  befell  from  a  pure  insight  to  mere  technical  rote  and 
jumble. 

That  Saint  Roch  was  called  the  Saint  of  the  Rock ;  that  his 
church  has  the  holy  Rock  of  Calvary  for  its  appropriate  shrine  ; 
that  the  Madeleine,  church  of  expiation,  should  bear  upon  its 
front,  beneath  the  high-relief  of  the  Last  Judgment,  —  "  To  Al 
mighty  God,  by  the  invocation  of  Saint  Mary  Magdalene,"  and 
be  filled  with  pictures  of  the  Penitence,  and  Conversion,  the 
Washing  of  the  sacred  Feet,  the  Praying  in  the  Wilderness, 
with  angels  to  comfort  her,  the  Supper  at  Bethany,  and  the 
blessed  grace  of  the  Resurrection  Announcement  to  her  who 
had  been  a  sinner,  —  what  are  these  but  great  ministries  and 
answers,  in  things  that  shall  stand,  to  the  need  and  asking  of 
the  world  ? 

Chirst  was  crucified.  His  saints  also  have  crucified  their  lives 
after  his  word.  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee ;  go  in  peace.'' 
"  Out  of  Mary  Magdalene  the  Lord  cast  seven  devils,  and  re 
ceived  her  to  dearest  discipleship."  It  seemed  to  me  that  these 
were  the  things  they  meant  who  builded,  or  else  invisibly  the 
Lord  Himself  built  the  house,  and  put  his  own  inscription  upon 
it,  through  the  vain,  half-conscious  plan  of  them  who  labored. 

It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  sweet  withdrawal  of  the  simple 
Madeleine  behind  the  greatness  of  its  pillared  surrounding,  was 
an  expression  in  the  edifice  itself  of  Mary's  tender,  safe  humil 
ity,  and  abiding  in  the  Strength  and  Refuge  that  are  "  round 
about "  the  forgiven  and  redeemed. 


THE  EVERLASTING   GATES.  187 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  EVERLASTING  GATES. 


....  OUT  of  Paris,  through  what  was  literally  *  sunny 
France,"  and  little  else,  that  August  day. 

A  long  rail-ride,  across  flat,  unbroken  plains,  and  along  river 
valleys  flanked  by  low  hills,  golden  russet  with  the  sun-ripening 
• —  among  vineyards  and  farms  that  lay  open  to  an  unrelieved 
blaze ;  a  journey  very  different  from  the  green  delight  of  Eng 
land,  —  brought  us  at  last  to  a  more  broken  country,  and  through 
cuttings  and  tunnels  in  the  Cote  d'Or,  to  Dijon  ;  where  we  got 
an  uneatable  dinner  (having  blundered  upon  a  wrong  hotel), 
and  passed  a  miserable  section  of  a  night,  till  four  in  the  morn 
ing  ;  then  we  railed  away  again,  comforted  only  by  knowing 
that  we  were  heading  swiftly  toward  the  mighty  mountains  that 
began  to  show  to  the  eastward,  and  had  escaped  out  of  the 
wearisome  horizon  that  for  so  many  hours  of  yesterday  had 
spread  out  flat  around  us  like  the  rim  of  a  trencher. 

As  we  came  forth  among  the  farms  that  looked  green  and 
pleasant  in  the  early  morning,  and  stopped  at  some  little  sta 
tion  in  the  edge  of  a  small  town,  a  cock  stood  upon  a  fence  and 
crowed. 

"  That  is  good  American  !  "  exclaimed  Emery  Ann. 

"  It  is ;  and  it 's  a  real  comfort,"  she  repeated,  as  we  all 
laughed.  "  Everything  speaks  it  but  the  people.  The  dogs 
bark,  and  the  cocks  crow,  and  the  cats  yawl,  and  the  babies  cry, 
in  real  plain  American  as  ever  was.  The  folks  make  the  differ 
ence,  growing  up.  The  things  are  all  right,  — just  as  they  aro 
at  home ;  the  sun  and  the  grass,  and  the  trees,  and  the  water ; 
it 's  all  the  same,  only  not  so  much  variety.  You  could  n't  find 
your  map-questions,  to  save  your  life,  if  you  did  n't  know. 
There  ain't  any  colors  to  tell  your  boundaries  by." 


188  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Emery  Ann  is  a  shrewd  woman,  and  a  thinking  one  ;  she  has 
her  own  fashion  of  taking  up  her  instincts  and  turning  them  to 
insights.  The  divine  language  is  one  everywhere,  and  she  dis 
cerned  it.  Green  is  green  ;  and  blue  is  blue ;  and  bright  is 
bright;  tones  are  identical;  trees,  fields,  hills,  clouds, —  all  talk 
the  dear  primeval  language"  that  we  know  ;  and  the  living  Word 
is  at  the  root  and  heart  of  all  meaning,  and  Home  is  behind 
all  lands. 

Over  the  hot  plains  of  France  had  been  an  approach  to  make 
the  mountain  gateway  more  blessedly  glorious,  as  it  seemed 
actually  to  roll  open  before  us  when  we  reached  and  passed 
Pontarlier. 

Higher  and  higher  tossed  and  tumbled  the  hills,  surging  into 
peaks ;  greener  grew  the  dark  verdure  of  the  pines ;  sweeter 
rested  the  pure  clouds  upon  great,  shadowy  shoulders  ;  at  last,  — 
oh,  at  last !  the  heavy  barriers  parted  away  from  each  other 
across  the  deep,  beautiful  gorge  of  the  Travers,  and  we  looked 
along  its  parallels  of  mysterious  gloom  to  the  far,  strange,  sud 
den  vision  of  white  Alps  ! 

A  dazzle  among  soft,  gray,  nearer  shapes  ;  points  and  gleams, 
touches  and  shines  of  snowy  slopes  and  tops ;  not  yet  exact,  — 
not  born  out  of  the  cloudy  indefiniteness,  quite ;  a  far-off  appre 
hension,  like  the  first  spirit-perception  of  the  other  shore  from 
the  sea,  —  the  Other  Land  from  this  ! 

Then  we  lost  it  again,  for  a  snatch ;  it  came  back,  and  then 
was  gone  for  longer ;  we  rolled  on,  and  the  hills  rolled  around 
us,  making  the  wondrous  revelation  of  the  heights,  that  tells  us 
what  no  vastness  of  globe-surface,  unruffled  and  unheaved,  could 
ever  tell.  We  could  not  know  the  earth  upon  a  great  level ; 
but  lifted  up  and  shone  upon,  reared  into  grand  shapes,  changing 
with  changing  lights,  —  now  a  rift,  now  a  pasture,  —  again  the 
shelter  of  age  -  old  forests  unprofaned ;  showing  continually 
some  new  relation,  —  uttering  endlessly  some  new  syllables  of 
the  world-word,  —  we  can  see  how  it  is  all  there,  and  how  the 
heaven  itself  rests  upon  it. 

"And  I  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me." 

We  climbed  the  slow,  long  grades  into  the  Juras  ;  we  crossed 
high  viaducts ;  we  saw  beside  and  below  us,  —  often  far  below, 


THE   EVERLASTING   GATES.  189 

hung  between  us  and  the  sparkle  of  river  or  lake,  —  lovely  vil 
lages  ;  we  wound  round  dizzy  brinks,  and  hovered  as  if  in  mid 
heaven,  over  vivid  blue  waters.  Away,  southward,  in  another 
mid  heaven,  gleamed  the  ice  summits,  struck  by  the  full  noon 
sun.  . 

It  was  a  threshold  of  glory  ;  far  off,  a  world  of  glory  shone 
and  stretched,  heaped  up  and  up,  beyond  and  beyond.  We 
were  coming  to  it'  presently.  For  thousands  of  ages  it  had 
been  there  ;  we  had  been  but  one,  and  two,  score  years  upon  the 
earth  ;  yet  our  life-times  looked  long  to  us  in  which  this  had 
waited  and  we  had  not  seen  it. 

At  last,  we  slid  into  a  station.  We  were  arrived  at  Neu- 
chatel. 


190  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ON  THE   HOUSETOP. 


....  WE  are  glad  to  wait  here,  and  see  it  far  off  for  a  little 
longer.  'It  is  too  great  to  rush  upon.  We  would  rather  pause 
before  the  gates. 

Our  rooms  are  lovely  at  the  Hotel  Bellevue.  The  windows, 
with  stone  balconies  on  which  we  sit,  look  out  upon  the  lake, 
and  across  to  that  mystical  line  of  purple  and  gray  and  the  high 
glitter  of  snow  ;  and  we  can  see  the  vast  up-gathering  of  Mont 
Blanc. 

In  these  nights,  too,  we  have  a  glorious  moon. 

I  have  wanted  nothing  but  to  sit,  and  look,  and  think,  and 
write.  I  have  come  into  the  present  tense  again  in  my  record 
for  you.  I  am  glad  to  have  caught  up  before  I  really  enter 
upon  Switzerland. 

It  will  be  past,  again,  very  shortly  ;  we  shall  move  constantly, 
when  we  do  move  ;  I  shall  try  to  tell  it  to  you  in  the  next  pause. 
For  we  mean  to  make  pauses ;  we  have  stayed  here  nearly  a 
week,  and  we  shall  find  some  mountain  nook  as  soon  as  may  be 
after  we  go  in ;  as  the  worshipers  in  a  great  Cathedral  find 
some  little  quiet  side-shrine  and  chapel  in  which  to  kneel. 

We  are  busy,  a  great  deal,  with  Baedeker  and  the  maps. 
Switzerland  is  like  the  diagram  puzzle  we  used  to  have  when  I 
was  at  school,  —  to  be  drawn  without  taking  off  the  pencil,  or 
passing  it  twice  over  the  same  line.  We  find  it  hard  to  make 
all  the  lines  and  points  we  want  to,  without  retracing  steps  too 
much.  We  must  have  Chamouny,  and  Lucerne,  and  the  Rhigi ; 
between  these,  up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  are  routes  we  find 
it  hard  to  trace  in  economical  order,  and  in  the  best  time  for 
each.  The  Wengern  Alp  and  the  Jungfrau,  —  the  valley  of  the 


ON  THE  HOUSETOP.  191 

Grindelwald  and  the  Great  Scheideck  —  the  Briinig  Pass,  the 
Haslithal  and  the  Fiirca  and  the  Rhone  glacier,  —  the  Gemmi, 
if  we  dare  it,  and  the  beautiful  journey  by  Kandersteg,  —  above 
all,  Zermatt  and  the  Matterhorn ;  and  then  the  Simplon  Pass 
into  Italy ;  can  we  bring  all  these  in,  —  and  will  the  time  be 
long  enough,  —  and  which  are  the  "  must-haves  "  and  the  may- 
do-withouts  ? 

Then,  too,  our  fortnight  of  staying  somewhere  and  getting  a 
real  feeling  of  belonging,  and  a  home-thought  for  Switzerland  to 
last  after  all  this  touring  about  shall  have  kinked  itself  up  again 
in  our  memories,  and  become  like  the  snarled  skein  we  are  un 
raveling  one  end  of  now  ? 

We  think  we  should  like  it  best  somewhere  at  the  head  of 
Lake  Leman ;  and  that  it  would  be  better  before  than  after  our 
mountain  wanderings.  It  should  be,  indeed,  if  we  are  to  end 
with  Zermatt  and  the  Simplon. 

" '  Come  up  and  be  dead  ! ' "  cried  Margaret  and  Edith  to 
gether,  the  evening  of  the  third  day  we  had  been  here,  as  with 
a  hasty  knock  they  rushed  eagerly  into  my  room. 

"  We  have  found  out  the  top  of  the  house  !  " 

So  Emery  Ann  and  I  came  in  from  the  balcony,  and  went  out 
into  the  corridor  that  in  each  of  the  four  spacious  stories  of  the 
hotel  runs  around  the  great  square  skylighted  centre,  in  which, 
below,  a  marble-paved  saloon  green  and  cheerful  with  flowers 
and  shrubs  in  tubs  and  vases,  and  with  sofas  ranged  around  the 
sides,  forms  the  delightful  entrance  hall  into  which  everything 
opens. 

The  chambermaid  had  brought  the  key,  and  was  waiting. 

We  went  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  and  she  opened  a  little  door 
which  disclosed  a  ladder-like  ascent  to  a  trap  in  the  roof.  She 
lifted  it,  and  we  passed  through. 

"If  we  could  n't  have  any  more,  shouldn't  we  think  this  was 
enough  ?  "  exclaimed  Edith,  as  we  stepped  out  to  the  railed  edge 
of  the  great  flat  housetop  and  looked  wonderingly  forth. 

The  sun  had  just  gone  down.  The  sky  was  all  rosy  and  blue, 
with  those  soft,  golden-tawny  clouds  that  turn  red  afterward, 
and  then  slowly  purple  and  gray.  Behind  us  rose  the  hill,  and 


192  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

the  town  that  stretches  up  its  side ;  its  white  buildings,  —  its 
old  castle,  —  its  twelfth-century  temple  on  the  heights,  —  all 
clear  against  the  green  and  the  blue,  and  bathed  in  tender  radi 
ance. 

Down  in  the  lake,  deep,  vivid  reflections,  and  opal  tints  rip 
pling  richly  under  the  heaven  so  full  of  color.  The  wide-away 
ranges  of  the  Bernese  Alps  heaped  in  the  south  and  east  beyond 
the  water,  —  their  shadowy  lines  and  crowns  like  blue  and 
violet  mists ;  and  the  white  peaks  palely  touched  with  pink  ; 
Mont  Blanc  revealing  himself  in  a  grand,  far-off  purity  which 
the  warm  light  faintly  mantled  and  made  -more  living-beautiful. 

"  Mamma  must  come,"  said  Margaret ;  and  went  down  to 
fetch  her. 

We  sat  on  .the  low  parapet  bench,  and  let  the  glory  rain 
around  us,  and  shift,  and  deepen,  and  pour  itself  away,  till  the 
gray  dropped,  and  the  stillness  itself  fell  like  a  curtain,  and  all 
things  bowed  themselves  and  waited.  Then  a  great  globe  of 
softened  fire  rolled  up  behind  the  rim  of  eastern  hills  and  spilled 
its  splendor  into  sky  and  lake  and  against  mountain  borders  ; 
and  in  the  moonlight  there  was  a  new  wonder  and  a  new  world. 

Little  boats  put  forth  and  came  in  upon  the  water  far  below, 
and  no  sound  disturbed  us.  The  bustle  of  street  and  court-yard 
did  not  reach  us  here ;  nothing  reminded  us  that  we  were  on 
the  roof  of  a  busy,  crowded  hotel,  where  people  and  luggage 
were  coming  and  going.  We  were  out  of  it  all.  We  saw  no 
house  below  us.  We  were  on  a  great  air-raft,  lying  afloat  in  the 
midst  between  clouds  and  water.  We  were  "  dead  "  and  blessed. 

"  Let  him  that  is  on  the  housetop  not  come  down." 

But  the  way  farther  lay  down,  through  the  house.  And 
their  way  must  have  lain  so  also.  Only,  having  fetched  things 
from  the  hills  and  from  the  heavens,  one  never  need  come  down 
utterly  to  the  mere  fetching  of  the  things  below,  and  the  being 
burdened  with  them.  Was  not  that  the  saying,  —  said  to  them 
who  on  the  Jerusalem  housetops,  escaping  from  the  under-toil  to 
the  glory  of  the  firmament  and  the  circling  crests  of  Judah  and 
Benjamin  and  of  far-off  Moab  and  the  Wilderness,  had  been 
learning  all  their  lives  a  great  meaning  that  was  ready  for  the 
word? 


ON   THE  HOUSETOP.  193 

Yesterday,  Mrs.  Regis  came  to  me  and  said,  —  "  There  was 
something  in  my  mind  that  I  had  half  an  intention  of  mentioning 
to  you  in  Paris.  I  wonder  if  I  might  ask  a  real  favor  of  you, — 
if  I  should  decide  to  want  it,  and  I  think  I  shall." 

"  Of  course  you  may,  without  hesitation.  I  only  hope  it  may 
be  something  possible  to  me." 

"  What  if  I  were  to  leave  Margaret  with  you,  — just  making 
the  fourth,  you  know,  —  the  nice  carriage  number,  —  for  the 
trip  to  Chamounix  ;  and  I  were  to  go  to  Heidelberg  meantime  ? 
I  have  a  letter  from  some  friends  who  have  been  spending  the 
summer  there  thus  far  ;  and  they  urge  me  to  come.  I  have  been 
to  Chamounix,  and  I  have  a  great  desire  to  do  this,  for  which 
there  will  be  no  other  opportunity.  I  could  come  back  and  meet 
you  again  anywhere  between  Martigny  and  Lausanne,  if  you  find 
a  place  to  stay  at ;  or  at  Interlachen,  if  you  keep  on  there.  I 
think  we  must  decide  against  the  Gemmi ;  it  is  too  hazardous, 
and  we  never  should  hold  out  to  do  all  those  passes.  In  that 
case  we  should  come  round  by  rail  again  to  Interlachen,  and  so 
by  Grindelwald  and  the  Briinig  to  Lucerne." 

"  And  then  by  Altorf  and  Andermatt  to  the  Fiirca  and  the 
Rhone  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  to  Zermatt  last,  if  strength  and  weather  hold. 
What  do  you  think?  About  Chamounix  and  Margaret,  I 
mean  ?  Of  course  we  shall  all  be  together  afterward,  to  decide 
the  journey  as  it  conies  along." 

"  It  would  be  nothing  but  pleasure  to  have  Margaret  with  us," 
I  said ;  "  if  you  feel  that  this  plan  is  best  in  every  other  way." 

It  was  nothing  that  I  could  help,  if  it  were  not  the  best ;  of 
course  they  would  decide  ;  but  something  hindered  me  from 
grasping  as  eagerly  at  this  possession  of  Margaret  to  ourselves 
as  I  might  have  done  if  I  could  have  seen  —  or  foreseen  — 
everything  that  might  depend. 

It  seems  absurd  to  be  jealous  of  possibilities  for  Margaret,  be 
cause  her  step-mother  will  very  likely  meet  General  Rushleigh 
in  Germany.  Especially  now  that  I  think  I  know  Mrs.  Regis 
better,  and  that  I  do  not  believe  she  would  use  any  positive  ma 
noeuvre.  That  mean  notion  of  not  wanting  her  step-daughter 
to  marry  where  she  could  not  decently  refuse  consent,  for  the 
13 


194  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

Bake  of  the  money  question  involved,  is  utterly  put  aside,  f,  in 
deed  one  could  ever  really  have  had  it.  The  hindrance  between 
Margaret  and  her  father's  widow  is  far  more  delicate  and  re 
mote. 

It  is  the  hinge  of  interest  between  them  that  shuts  the  door. 
Mrs.  Regis,  within,  world-wise,  and  comfortable,  cannot  under 
stand  why  that  which  opens  so  readily  from  her,  if  she  choose  to 
give  it  the  touch,  may  not  be  as  easily  drawn  back  from  the  op 
posite  side  ;  not  feeling  how  it  flies  in  Margaret's  face.  Mar 
garet,  who  would  dash  any  barrier  back  against  herself  if  it  were 
to  admit  from  an  outer  waiting  one  who  needed  her  own  com 
fort  and  shelter,  will  not  do  it  that  she  may  be  received  into 
the  like.  She  stands  in  her  own  hard  circumstance,  true  as 
light,  but  proud  also  —  as  people  say  —  as  the  very  son  of  the 
morning. 

Indeed,  it  is  a  question  whether,  were  she  of  another  temper 
ament,  —  if  her  simpleness  were  yielding  and  acquiescent  instead 
of  high  and  sensitive  and  conscious,  —  whether  her  step-mother 
would  have  been  able  to  understand  it  for  what  it  was,  and  not 
rather  come  to  credit  her,  —  or  suspect  her,  —  as  acting  from  at 
least  a  wise  self-seeking  ;  a  reasonable  common  sense,  of  which 
was  the  "  buttered  side  "  of  life  for  her.  For  Mrs.  Regis's  own 
practical  adroitness  might  easily  turn  upon  her  in  the  quality  of 
suspicion,  if  credited  to  another ;  since  one  can  always  trust 
one's  self  in  the  handling  of  a  dangerous  thing,  sooner  than  see 
with  confidence  another  using  it. 

It  may  be  that  through  their  very  oppositions  and  incompre 
hensions,  the  two  will  come  at  last  —  "  at  long  and  at  last,"  may 
be  —  quite  beyond  this  present  phase  of  mutual  experience,  and 
though  it  should  go  quite  wrong  with  them  to  our  minds  — 
into  that  relation  for  which  they  have  been  set  together,  of  a 
purer  recognition  and  a  more  blessed  help  than  any  outside 
fitting  or  smoothness. 

But  now,  —  one  does  think  of  the  immediate  possibilities. 
For  Mrs.  Regis  is  a  woman  at  the  climax  of  her  womanhood. 
She  is  forty-three  years  old,  and  her  perfect  prime  has  not  be 
gun  to  wane.  Between  thirty  and  fifty,  woman-life  is  fullest, 
intensest,  in  its  fulfillment  and  gracious  radiation,  or  in  its  reali- 


ON  THE   HOUSETOP.  195 

zation  of  a  nature  uncrowned,  —  of  needs  unmet.  If  a  vision 
come  at  that  age  of  something  that  might  have  been,  but  never 
was,  it  reveals  itself  across  all  barriers  and  discrepancies ;  and 
the  struggle,  if  a  struggle  follow,  is  in  proportion.  It  is  as 
when  "  a  giant  dies  ;  "  and  the  little  insects  cannot  feel  a  "  pang 
as  great." 

With  all  her  ripe  knowledge  and  her  full  power,  she  discerns 
in  herself  her  youth  again,  and  what  it  should  have  given  against 
this  strong,  unsatisfied  time.  She  is  back  in  the  years  when  she 
missed  it  ;  she  takes  up  an  inward  experience  of  which  she  has 
forfeited  the  sign.  The  absurd  marriages  which  women  make  in 
middle  or  advancing  years  are  not  so  absurd  perhaps,  after  all, 
in  the  essence  of  things  ;  only  they  would  better  have  waited  for 
the  life  that  shall  be  all  built  up  on  the  inward  truth  and  rela 
tion,  and  the  stones  of  whose  houses  may  be  the  very  ones  that 
were  blindly  rejected  or  falsely  precluded  in  the  old,  hasty,  igno 
rant  building. 

I  doubt  if  Mrs.  Regis  admits  to  herself  what  she  most  wants 
to  go  to  Heidelberg  for.  I  doubt  if  she  has  been  conscious  that 
she  would  not  look  with  complacency,  —  or  why  she  would  not, 
—  upon  a  possibility  between  Margaret  and  General  Rushleigh. 
And  of  course  there  is  no  way  or  word  given  to  me  now,  by 
which  I  could  show  her  what  perhaps  I  have  no  right  to  be  sure 
I  see  myself.  It  must  go  on,  and  happen  as  it  will.  General 
Rushleigh  is  nine  years  younger  than  this  still  splendid,  fasci 
nating  woman,  who  may,  as  her  sudden  Indian  summer  shines 
upon  her,  soften  and  sweeten  into  something  so  much  more. 
The  brief  youth  that  comes  in  such  a  manner,  —  like  the  late 
love,  —  has  a  glow  that  the  first  youth  never  knew. 

There  are  perhaps  fifteen  years  the  other  way,  between  the 
other  two.  But  we  feel  it  different  when  a  man's  heart  grows 
young,  —  or  has  been  kept  young  with  a  grand  purity,  —  for  a 
love  that  comes  a  little  late  ;  and  a  girl's  life  blooms  and  ripens 
to  its  offered  fervor. 

There  is  one  thing :  unless  he  should  know  better  about  that 
entanglement  of  Margaret's,  Paul  Rushleigh  would  not  take  one 
step  toward  her,  or  toward  the  breaking  down  of  any  pledge  she 
might  be  under. 


196  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

And  separately,  —  and  at  her  best,  —  and  with  that  safe 
charm  of  slightly  elder  friendship,  and  association  with  what 
has  been  a  mingled  pleasantness  of  companionship,  —  Mrs. 
Regis  has  the  move,  and  makes  her  play. 

Well !  God  knows ;  and  He  will  see  to  it.  Meanwhile, 
Patience  Strong !  do  not  meddje  unless  you  are  somehow  called. 
For  the  very  sake  that  if  the  word  or  sign  does  come,  you  may 
transmit  it  electric  with  its  own  authority. 


STEPPING  IN.  197 


CHAPTER  XX. 

STEPPING  IN. 


....  WE  came  down  from  Neuchatel  to  Vevay,  thinking  to 
go  right  on  down  the  lake  to  Geneva  and  Chamounix.  But  it 
became  so  apparent  that  not  only  our  two  confessedly  delicate 
ones,  Edith  and  Emery  Ann,  but  I  myself,  had  done  traveling 
enough  of  late,  and  needed  toning  up  by  a  little  further  passive 
reception  of  the  mountain  catholicon,  before  attempting  the  great 
toil  and  joy  of  our  first  real  mountain  work,  that  we  wrote  thence 
to  Mrs.  Regis  that  we  should  defer  our  tour,  and  perhaps  hunt 
up  our  Swiss  Eden  first,  and  make  trial  of  it  for  a  week  or  so. 
She  had  told  us  not  to  mind  a  week  more  or  less  ;  she  could  be 
with  us  at  twenty-four  hours'  notice  after  she  should  return  to 
Basle ;  and  if  anything  happened  to  detain  us  we  were  not  to 
worry.  So  we  resolved  to  be  detained  at  once ;  and  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Regis  found  us  here  a  few  days  afterward,  quite  ap 
proving  our  decision,  and  indifferent  as  to  possibly  losing  the 
stay  in  this  region,  as  she  should  be  making  hers  in  Baden.. 

We  stopped  one  night  at  the  "  Three  Crowns  "  in  Vevay, 
whose  garden  terrace  lies  right  along  the  lake,  upon  which, 
seated  by  the  parapet,  or  wandering  up  and  down  the  shaded 
alleys,  we  passed  a  delicious  evening.  But  we  were  impatient 
of  hotels,  and  longed  for  the  real  mountains  ;  so  we  took  a  car 
riage  the  next  morning,  and  were  driven  along  the  lake  side, 
through  Clarens  and  Montreux,  stopping  at  several  "  pensions," 
and  looking  at  rooms,  but  finding  nothing  that  quite  satisfied 
our  eagerness  for  the  very  most  of  wildness  and  of  comfort  com 
bined,  until  we  climbed  up  here,  over  our  first  mountain  zigzag. 

The  towns  upon  the  lake  are  lovely,  their  gardens  and  bal 
conies  running  out  and  overhanging  the  blue  water,  —  the  mar- 
relous  blue  you  have  heard  of,  but  cannot  fancy  until  you  look 


198  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

into  its  jewel-depth,  —  and  lying  under  the  vast  sheltering 
heights  that  shut  in  heaven  itself  to  another  sapphire  lake-cir 
cumference  above  ;  but  the  streets  are  close  and  the  heights  en 
tice  you  ;  the  spell  of  Switzerland,  which  is  "  Excelsior  ! "  is 
upon  you,  and  you  go  up  —  at  least  we  did,  —  restless  until 
you  find  an  eyrie  among  the  altitudes  and  of  them. 

You  climb  up  between  sloping  vineyards,  walled  on  eiiher 
tide.  You  are  disappointed  —  a  little  —  in  the  vineyards  them 
selves,  though  you  knew  better  than  to  be.  Of  course  they  are 
for  fruit,  and  the  foliage  is  trimmed  down.  There  are  no  green, 
tossing  sprays,  no  riotous,  wandering  branches ;  no  graceful, 
arbor-like  overclaspings.  They  look  more  like  bean-gardens  ; 
the  vines  planted  and  trained  by  stiff,  short  poles,  in  stiff,  regular 
rows.  I  do  not  think  they  are  so  pretty  as  a  bean-garden  ;  and 
hops  are  ever  so  much  more  lovely.  But  with  a  basket  of  their 
clear,  rich,  wine-distended  amber  fruit  before  me,  —  filled  fresh 
every  morning  and  eaten  from  at  every  odd  minute  when  I  have 
nothing  else  to  do  —  I  have  not  a  word  for  their  mission  and 
results,  but  of  delight. 

Back  and  forth,  making  sharp  turns,  the  road  angles  itself  up 
the  precipitous  hillside.  We  turned  dizzy  and  frightened,  often, 
as  we  looked  down,  seeing  the  town  diminish  into  a  group  of 
toy  houses,  and  the  lake  drop  itself  deeper  in  its  green  setting, 
and  the  little  boats  and  steamers  look  like  water-skippers  in  a 
summer  pool. 

Then  we  passed  into  deep  woods  and  wound  right  and  left 
among  their  recesses,  the  great  pillared  trunks  thronging  about 
us,  and  a  dense  shade  overhead  ;  still  up  and  up,  —  then  out  on 
some  dizzy  edge  or  platform  suddenly,  that  showed  the  vineyards 
and  streets  and  lake  and  skimming  boats  fallen  into  yet  pro- 
founder  distance ;  the  old  round  towers  of  Chillon  with  their 
coned  roofs  told  where  the  fortress  of  the  cruel  Middle  Age  sat 
there  by  the  waters  ;  the  mountains  over  opposite  rose  and  rose, 
in  their  might,  against  our  petty  climbing,  and  filled  as  much 
of  the  sky  as  ever.  We  said  to  each  other,  "  Is  there  any  end  ? 
And  shall  we  ever  dare  to  come  down  again  ?  " 

All  at  once,  —  everything  comes  all  at  once  among  these 
mountains  —  we  wound  round  through  a  bit  of  thick  woods,  and 


STEPPING   IN.  199 

out  on  to  an  open  plateau,  and  found  ourselves  at  the  garden 
front  of  a  large,  comfortable  hotel-pension,  the  "  Maison  Vic 
toria."  And  it  is  here  —  halfway  up  the  great  height  —  set 
with  our  backs  to  the  perpendicular  of  the  wooded  steep,  and 
our  faces  toward  the  blue  lake  far  below  and  to  the  majesty  of 
the  dark  cliffs  and  peaks  that  shadow  it  from  beyond,  that  we 
found  rooms,  and  took  possession  at  once  for  a  week  at  least ; 
sending  back  to  Vevay  for  our  trunks  and  to  pay  the  bill,  and  to 
restore  the  big  key  of  our  room  which  Emery  Ann  had  brought 
away  in  her  pocket ;  and  here  we  are  living  the  life  of  the  lifted- 
up,  in  a  sphere  that  hangs  midway  between  earth  and  heaven. 

The  garden,  laid  out  in  parterres  of  bright  flowers,  and 
bounded  at  the  front  by  a  shaded  walk  ;  and  a  low  wall  runs 
from  the  house  to  the  brink  of  the  precipice  which  falls  sheer 
from  the  stones  you  lean  upon,  almost  —  as  it  seems  looking 
downward  —  to  the  very  water. 

Away  down  to  the  left,  you  see  the  brown  towers  and  black 
cones  of  Chillon  ;  grimly  tame,  a  place  for  the  curious  to  wander 
through,  and  stand  safe  in  its  swept-out  dungeons  and  beside  its 
horrible  oubliette,  and  in  the  very  footpaths  worn  around  its 
chaining-pillavs  by  the  feet  of  miserable,  doomed  men.  But  we 
shall  see  it  when  we  go  down  ;  and  then  I  can  tell  you,  perhaps, 
something  of  what  it  seems  like. 

From  the  broad  esplanade-balcony  which  runs  along  before 
the  drawing-rooms,  —  or  from  the  windows  of  the  rooms  above, 
two  of  which  we  are  so  fortunate  as  to  occupy,  —  we  look  away 
into  the  hearts  of  the  mountain  shapes  and  shadows  ;  we  see 
them  form  and  shine  under  the  coming  of  the  morning  light, 
and  retreat  and  darken  and  cover  themselves  with  the  night. 
We  see  what  I  never  saw  before,  or  knew  what  it  was  if  I  did 
see  it,  —  the  mountains  go  to  sleep.  For  this  is  just  what  they 
do,  as  the  evening  hushes  down,  and  the  stars  come  out  in  the 
stillness.  The  vast  forms  that  reared  up  so  mightily,  as  with 
a  majestic  visible  motion,  in  the  quickening  of  the  morning 
and  the  clear,  splendid  glow  of  noon,  stretch  and  lower  them 
selves  now  to  repose.  The  dim  outline  takes  a  new  expression. 
The  fjiants  are  recumbent,  one  after  another,  along  the  great 
Bentiael  line.  The  stars  sprinkle  down  their  rain  upon  these 


200  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

awful  foreheads  and  breasts  as  the  constellations  drop  one  by 
one  westwardly ;  the  golden  drops  lie  glittering  upon  the  crested 
ridges  before  they  vanish.  The  milky  way  streams  over  the 
zenith,  and  pours  itself,  like  a  river  of  light,  upon  them. 

We  have  sat  before  the  shadowed  glory  till  it  seemed  as  if 
we  had  no  right  to  sit  and  watch  it  any  longer  ;  for  it  was  like 
finding  ourselves  hidden  behind  royal  curtains,  shut  in  to  the 
privacy  of  kings. 

Down  in  the  southeast,  up  the  lake  and  river  valley,  and 
closing  across  its  farther  stretch,  stands  the  Dent  du  Midi ;  the 
great  northern  summit,  or  group  of  summits,  bright  with  snow, 
that  gives  itself  in  glimpses  never  twice  alike  ;  an  endless  reve 
lation.  And  yet  it  is  only  one  outstanding  cluster  that  tells  us 
of  uncounted  and  ineffable  wonders  in  its  world  beyond ;  the 
world  of  peaks  and  snows  and  glaciers  that  lies  behind  this  near 
cordon  of  lesser  citadel  hills  and  the  water-chain  at  their  feet ; 
the  inner  keeps  of  awfulness  and  might ;  the  great  Alp-world 
of  Italy  and  Savoy. 

We  sit  here,  eating  grapes,  and  re-arranging  trunks,  and 
mourning  over  a  little  loss,  —  a  great  loss  of  ever  so  many 
little  indispensable  things,  —  while  those  wonders  are  awaiting 
us.  Well,  —  or  ill !  that  is  the  human  way. 

Emery  Ann  found  it  out ;  and  it  was  Emery  Ann  who  did 
it.  It  was  she  who  left  our  "  bag  at  Dover."  For  it  has  grown 
already  into  a  catchword.  We  shall  never  need  or  miss  any 
thing  again  in  all  the  rest  of  our  pilgrimage,  that  we  shall  not 
say  or  imagine,  if  possible,  that  it  was  "in  the  bag  we  left  at 
Dover." 

I  wanted  a  fresh  supply  of  pins  for  my  traveling  basket- 
cushion  ;  Edith  was  out  of  hair-pins  ;  —  she  is  always  out ;  she 
never  knows  the  comfort  of  a  regular  old  set  every  one  of  which 
has  its  place  and  its  bend ;  she  puts  in  new,  shining,  slippery 
ones  by  the  dozen,  without  the  least  regard  to  the  laws  of  me 
chanics,  and  drops  them  out  of  her  smooth,  soft,  heavy  braids 
like  rain,  —  "  pitchfork-rain,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  when  I  told 
her  that ;  there  was  a  place  to  be  sewed  in  a  trunk  cover  ;  and 
the  pins  and  the  hair-pins  and  the  sail-needles  and  fine  twine, 


STEPPING   IN.  201 

were  in  that  biggest,  most  ingeniously  compartmented,  gray- 
linen  sea-pocket,  which  we  had  devoted  to  all  these  etcetera,  that 
we  might  always  know  where  to  lay  hand  upon  them. 

Emery  Ann  and  I  searched  through  and  through  our  luggage  ; 
we  laid  out  piles  on  piles,  recklessly,  around  us  on  the  floor ;  we 
reached  the  bottom  of  every  trunk  in  turn  ;  the  gray  pocket  was 
nowhere. 

"When  did  we  go  to  it  last,  and  what  for?"  It  was  when 
we  were  making  the  burlaps  covers  at  Dover ;  Emery  Ann 
remembered  it  quite  well.  The  last  thing  of  all  was  the  sew 
ing  down  of  Edith's  cover  with  that  strong  twine.  And  then 
we  recollected  the  fright  and  bustle  we  had  because  Mrs.  Regis 
missed  suddenly  a  diamond  from  one  of  her  rings ;  her  engage 
ment  ring ;  a  splendid  solitaire.  And  a  splendid  solitaire  is 
such  a  dreadfully  wee  thing,  after  all,  to  look  for,  when  it  is  out 
of  its  setting ! 

We  were  to  leave  the  next  morning ;  it  must  be  found  at 
once,  if  findable.  We  were  all  down  on  hands  and  knees  ;  we 
groped  and  peered  under  unmovables  and  pulled  about  every 
thing  that  could  be  moved;  Mrs.  Regis  herself  unpacked  the 
trunk  she  had  just  closed,  and  shook  every  article ;  we  sent  for 
the  chambermaid  and  questioned  her  about  the  toilet-bucket ; 
at  last,  with  a  great  shout  of  delight,  Margaret  espied  it  close 
by  the  footknob  of  the  heavy  bureau.  But  it  had  upset  all  our 
minds.  And  now  Emery  Ann  could  not  recollect  recollecting 
anything  again  about  the  great  gray  bag.  She  "  presumed " 
she  had  forgotten  it.  "  And  there  was  the  little  double-up  tack- 
hammer  in  it !  "  she  sighed  woefully. 

"And  the  dear  little  Russia-leather,  screw-together  candle 
sticks  !  "  said  Edith. 

"  And  all  those  pencils  —  a  whole  drawing-case  full  —  of  Fa- 
ber's  F's,  pointed,  ready  to  use  !  "  said  I. 

"  And  penknife,  —  and  box  of  pens,  —  and  tapes,  —  and 
corkscrews,  —  and  my  little  measuring  ribbon  !  and  a  bag  of 
sewing-silks,  —  and  the  little  patent  clotheshooks,  —  and  extra 
tooth-brushes,  —  and  no  end  of  pins  and  hair-pins, —  and  soap, 
—  and  boot-buttons,  —  and  rubber  corks  !  "  We  enumerated 
in  turn  and  all  together  as  the  details  of  our  misfortune  came 
back  upon  our  minds. 


202  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

"  We  shall  never  know  all  that  there  was  in  that  bag  !  "  said  I. 

"No,"  said  Emery  Ann,  solemnly.  "  It's  as  if  we'd  lost  a 
relation  that  we  had  n't  thought  half  enough  of.  We  shall  keep 
finding  out  the  good  of  it  now  it 's  gone." 

And  so  we  do.  But  I  think  the  most  of  my  little  measuring 
ribbon.  You  gave  it  to  me,  Rose,  ever  so  long  ago,  for  a  birth 
day  present. 


....  Margaret  had  letters  to-day,  from  Saratoga.  Edith, 
too,  had  one  from  a  school  friend  who  was  making  her  first 
grown-up  summer  journey,  and  who  had  just  arrived  also  at  the 
Springs. 

Katie  wrote,  —  "I  shall  never  forget  that  night  when  we  got 
to  Congress  Hall !  We  were  all  tired  out  I  suppose ;  but  we 
had  no  idea  of  stopping  to  think  about  it,  for  there  was  a  hop 
in  the  great  ball-room,  and  she  and  I  were  bound  to  go.  We 
had  come  all  the  way  from  St.  John's,  —  back  from  Montreal, 
you  know  ;  down  Lake  Champlain,  —  or  up,  which  is  it  ?  to 
Whitehall;  and  then  across  country  in  that  dusty,  crowded 
train  !  But  we  had  tea,  and  we  got  out  our  dresses.  Sue's  was 
tea-rose  silk  with  a  black  lace  basque,  and  mine  was  white,  with 
blue  watered  ribbon-stripes,  and  exquisite  little  trailing  white 
roses  for  my  hair  and  corsage  !  We  thought  each  other  looked 
bewitching  when  we  were  done. 

"  We  had  our  tea  in  our  room,  and  then  went  to  mamma's 
room  and  waited.  We  thought  papa  never  would  be  ready.  But 
at  last  we  went  up  the  grand  stairs,  —  past  such  walls  of  mirrors, 
—  I  never  saw  myself  away  off"  before,  in  a  blazing  light,  walk 
ing  up  toward  myself  like  some  other  girl,  and  then  across,  far 
enough  to  see  how  she  moved  and  how  her  skirts  trailed,  and 
how  much  nicer  she  looked  than  I  believed  I  did  —  which  is 
what  you  always  think,  you  know,  when  you  see  another  girl 
come  in  at  a  party,  —  and  —  where  was  I  ?  oh,  up-stairs,  and 
into  the  great  ball-room. 

"  And  the  band  was  bursting  all  through  the  house  with  beau 
tiful  music  ;  and  inside  was  a  wall  of  lookers-on,  six  rows  deep, 
and  inside  that  —  was  fairy-land  and  the  fairies  ! 

"  Well,  we  were  n't  anybodies,  in  our  tea-rose  and  blue,  after 


STEPPING   IN.  203 

all !  Such  girls  !  where  do  they  come  from,  and  where  do  they 
keep,  daytimes  ?  I  can't  tell  you  about  it,  Edie  ;  I  danced,  and 
I  drank  in  beauty  and  delight. 

"  One  girl  —  she  was  the  belle,  everybody  said  —  I  could  not 
take  my  eyes  off  from.  She  is  Nellie  FitzEustace,  a  great 
New  Orleans  man's  daughter;  and  she  has  just  —  well,  just 
long  enough  to  be  out  of  mourning  —  inherited  a  fortune  of  her 
own  from  her  grandfather  ;  half  a  million,  they  say.  And  she's 
just  as  sweet  as  if  she  were  six  years  old ;  and  she  is  n't  but 
sixteen.  Her  hair  dresses  itself,  and  she  's  all  the  time  tossing 
it  out  of  the  way  and  undoing  it,  —  no,  making  it  do  itself  pret 
tier  and  prettier.  And  her  eyes  are  as  blue  as  two  stars,  —  oh, 
stars  ain't  blue  ;  but  they  shine  out  of  it,  you  know !  and  she 
dances  like  a  daisy  —  you  know  what  I  mean  —  and  she  does  n't 
care  two  pins,  either,  only  for  the  minute.  They  say  she  flings 
all  her  elegant  things  down  anyway  when  she  gets  to  her  room, 
and  takes  a  book,  and  gets  into  bed,  and  has  the  gas  turned  up 
high,  and  reads.  She  does  that  half  the  time,  in  her  little  white 
wrappers,  when  her  father  thinks  she  is  dressing  for  a  ball  — 
he 's  awfully  proud  of  her !  and  when  he  comes  to  the  door,  she 
says,  '  O  papa,  I  forgot !  Must  I  go  ? '  She  likes  stories  and 
poetry  so  much  better  than  the  partners  and  the  dancing. 

"  Colonel  FitzEustace  drives  magnificent  horses,  and  Nellie 
has  a  pair  of  ponies.  I  saw  them  go  off  to  the  lake  yesterday 
with  a  lot  of  friends.  I  do  hope  I  shall  come  to  know  her  ! 

"  I'll  tell  you  who  else  is  here  ;  the  Boston  Mackenzies ; 
Flora  and  Harry.  Harry  is  splendid.  He  danced  last  night  with 
Nellie  FitzEustace.  I  was  just  in  love  with  both  of  them,  — 
there ! " 

It  is  great  nonsense,  certainly,  for  old  Patience  Strong  to  sit 
and  copy ;  but  it  is  very  sweet  nonsense,  is  n't  it  ?  And  you 
know  old  Patience  is  always  more  than  half-bewitched  with 
young  ecstasy. 

I  wondered  what  Margaret's  letters  said  to  her ;  and  if  there 
was  anything  in  them  about  Nellie  FitzEustace. 

Is  n't  it  good  that,  even  if  you  do  get  hold  of  two  ends  of  a 
string,  by  accident,  you  can't  always  pull  them  ?  I  should  not 
dare,  if  I  could  ;  but  I  think  my  fingers  might  twitch,  maybe,  in 
spite  of  mo. 


204  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

YESTERDAY  AND  TO-DAY. 


....  WE  came  down  from  Glion  two  days  after  I  wrote 
that  last  page.  We  found  there  was  not  any  summer  left 
to  be  idle  in.  We  woke  up  suddenly  and  realized  that  Septem 
ber  —  and  perhaps  changing  weather  —  was  close  upon  us. 
We  must  make  haste,  or  we  should  lose  the  mountains  in  the 
autumn  fogs  and  rains. 

Coming  down  the  zigzag  was  beautiful.  We  forgot  to  be 
afraid.  The  precipices  and  pitches  did  not  seem  so  high  and 
dreadful  as  they  did  before  we  had  got  used  to  living  in  the 
heights. 

Down  into  Montreux,  and  out  along  the  Lake-road  a  little 
way,  to  Chillon.  We  went  to  the  old  castle  the  last  thing,  you 
see. 

Over  the  bridge,  —  on  each  side  of  which,  now,  are  little 
stands  and  booths  where  people  sell  "  souvenirs,"  —  I  bought  an 
"  etui  "  of  carved  wood  for  you,  Rose,  —  over  the  bridge,  under 
the  old  portcullis  entrance,  into  the  unevenly-paved  court-yard, 
sloping  up  to  different  doorways  in  the  grim  walls  that  shut  in 
its  irregular  sides,  —  we  passed  into  the  lower  parts  of  the  build 
ing,  and  were  led  into  various  guard-rooms,  under  offices,  and 
prisoners'  rooms ;  the  very  spaces  seemed  heavy  with  their 
massive,  clumsy  inclosures  of  huge  stones  and  timbers ;  we  felt 
that  the  whole  castle  was  above  us. 

We  saw  places  and  contrivances  for  torture ;  we  looked  down 
the  horrible  oubliette,  that  opened  from  the  floor  of  one  of  the 
rooms,  like  a  bottomless  pit.  We  climbed  up  the  uncouth  stair 
way  ;  we  came  through  the  Duke's  chamber,  —  a  dark,  dread 
ful  hole  enough  it  looks  now, —  not  much  better  than  his  pris- 


YESTERDAY   AND   TO-DAY.  205 

oners' ;  and  saw  a  heavy,  worm-eaten  timber  set  up  against  the 
wall,  which  they  told  us  was  a  part  of  his  bedstead ;  the  bed 
stead  of  the  famous  Duke,  Charles  ;  and  round  through  a  little, 
three-cornered,  lobby-like  passage,  we  entered  that  of  the  Duch 
ess  ;  far  in  from  light  and  air,  bare  of  finish,  and  empty  of  all 
that  ever  made  it  habitable  ;  nothing  but  solid  black  beams  and 
stone  walls  ;  covered,  doubtless,  with  hangings  once,  and  gar 
nished  with  rude  Middle  Age  splendor  ;  but  a  place  that  it  was 
hard  to  imagine  any  duchess  ever  entered. 

The  "  Knights'  Hall "  was  close  by  ;  a  long  room,  running 
from  the  same  passage  that  opened  into  the  ducal  apartments 
and  occupying  the  distance  between  two  corner  towers,  I  think. 
Here,  a  presence  met  us,  —  a  reality.  One  could  fancy  the 
boisterous  life  that  had  filled  it.  The  banner-staves  were  there, 
and  the  battle-axes,  and  the  long  pikes,  marked  with  the  cross 
of  Savoy,  —  ranged  and  hung  against  the  inner  wall.  In  the 
outer  side,  fronting  the  lake,  were  deep  windows  with  stone 
seats.  I  sat  down  in  one,  and  looked  out  through  the  narrow 
opening  into  the  deep,  vivid-blue  water  that  washed  the  wall 
below,  and  imagined  easily  the  ring  of  armor  behind  me,  and 
the  movement  and  voices  of  men  gathered  here  in  some  hour  of 
relaxation  from  their  warlike  duty.  I  could  even  forget  that  I  was 
I,  Patience  Strong,  a  nineteenth  century  woman  from  Massachu 
setts:  and  could  think  of  two  warrior  friends,  mail-clad,  with 
just  their  visors  up  to  show  their  human  faces,  with  human 
kindness  in  them  for  each  other,  sitting  here  together  for  some 
brief  minutes  in  the  stone  embrasure,  looking  out  on  the  fair 
waters,  and  talking  of  adventure  or  plan  in  which  they  were 
companions.  There  was  just  room  for  two.  One  cannot  help 
thinking  of  some  possible  two,  where  there  is  just  space  for 
them  and  no  more. 

Edith  called  me  to  go  down.  The  guide  was  leading  our 
party  away  again,  to  visit  the  dungeons.  If  I  had  seen  them 
first,  I  do  not  believe  I  could  have  had  even  that  little  vision  of 
gentle  intercourse  and  human  fellowship  in  the  Knights'  Hall. 

How  could  the  Duchess  sleep  in  her  strong,  stone-walled, 
arras-hung  bower  above  those  miseries  and  moans  ? 

Yet  Chillon  is  only  a  small  world. 


206  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

The  moans  and  the  dungeons  are  the  lowest  stratum,  always. 
And  we  do  all  eat,  and  drink,  and  sleep,  and  rise  up  to  play. 

Underneath  everything,  based  on  the  rock,  walled  in  with 
heaviest,  rudest  stonework,  is  the  range  of  dungeons. 

They  open  one  within  another.  A  guard-room  first,  through 
which  alone  you  come  to  the  rest.  Another  room,  or  cellar, 
next,  in  which  is  the  great,  black  beam  for  executions. 
Another,  beyond,  in  which  a  natural  slope  of  stone  has  been 
roughly  shaped  into  a  sort  of  bed  or  couch,  which  fills  one  half 
the  space.  On  this  the  condemned  lay,  the  last  night  he  had  to 
live.  I  saw  Margaret  stand  before  it  a  moment  when  the  others 
had  passed  on,  and  put  her  foot  in  one  of  the  lowermost  hollows 
which  are  like  steps  in  the  rock,  as  if  she  would  climb  to  the 
dreadful  resting-place.  But  she  stopped  and  only  reached  her 
hand  to  the  side  of  it,  and  touched  it  with  a  pitiful  reverence,  as 
if  she  touched  a  bier ;  and  turning  back  again,  she  came  to  me 
with  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Poor  souls  that  suffered  there  so  long  ago  !  I  wonder  if  it  is 
anything  to  them  now  that  a  young  girl  from  the  far-side  of  the 
world  stood  there  this  summer  day  with  tears  for  them  in  her 
pure,  tender  eyes ! 

Perhaps :  it  may  have  been,  even  then,  since  then  and  now 
are  not  really  separate,  in  spirit-things.  They  must  have  felt 
tears  and  pity  near  them  ;  God's  pity,  —  of  which  hers  is  part. 

In  the  outer  wall,  opposite  the  bed,  opens  close  to  the  floor 
the  spout-like  passage  through  which  the  bodies  were  slidden 
into  the  lake. 

From  this  dungeon,  reaching  out  a  rectangular  length  like  the 
shape  of  the  Knights'  Hall,  above,  is  the  one  in  which  the  eight 
pillars,  supports  of  the  upper  structure,  run  through  the  midst, 
from  whose  great  chain-staples  the  fetters  hung  that  bound  the 
prisoners  each  to  his  own  pitiless  post. 

We  saw  the  carven  names  ;  we  stood  in  the  worn  hollows 
that  their  feet  had  pressed;  we  touched  Bonnivard's  pillar, 
where  his  head  must  have  leaned  in  his  long  despair. 

I  thought  of  it  again  ;  —  the  living  Pity  ;  which  was  there 
then  as  now ;  which  knows  all  the  moments,  while  men  know 
but  one ;  —  of  the  Presence  in  which  those  moments  joined 


YESTERDAY   AND   TO-DAY.  207 

themselves,  and  do  join ;  —  of  the  Books  that  shall  be  opened, 
when  we  shall  wonder  that  any  page  of  them  has  seemed  to  any 
like  the  end,  or  long  in  turning,  when  the  whole  was  there. 

"  Can  anything  ever  seem  to  bind  hopelessly,  since  we  have 
Been  those  ?  "  I  said  to  Margaret,  beside  me. 

Afterward  we  sailed  down  the  beautiful,  radiant  Lake,  in  a 
swift,  gay  little  steamer.  Another  steamer,  coming  up,  passed 
us,  with  happy  faces  crowding  along  its  sides.  I  caught  the 
name,  in  golden  letters,  on  its  bows.  It  was  "  Bonnivard." 

We  had  come  out  from  the  long  Yesterday,  into  the  sure  To 
day. 

We  have  bought  little  watches  here,  in  Geneva.  Margaret 
has  one  for  her  small  namesake  niece,  Margaret  Vanderhuysen, 
witli  the  monogram  on  the  tiny  back  in  blue  enamel.  I  have 
bought  one  for  little  "  Mary  Strong,"  motherdie's  name-child  ; 
and  the  whole  name  is  engraved  upon  it  in  a  minute  circle  of 
pearls. 

We  have  had  some  photographs  taken.  I  send  you  one  of 
myself;  it  is  thinner,  I  think,  than  ever.  But  you  know  I  am 
always  thin  at  the  top  of  all  those  photographer's  stairs.  I  am 
well ;  only  so  tired  with  travel !  My  writing  to  you  is  a  de 
fense;  I  make  it  my  plea  for  "swearing  off"  from  much  else 
that  I  should  have  to  do. 

We  were  up  in  the  photograph  rooms  when  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick's  funeral  passed  by ;  that  queer  old  man,  uncle  to 
Victoria  of  England,  who  has  just  died  here,  and  left  all  his 
money  to  the  city.  In  consequence,  the  day  of  his  burial  was 
solemn  holiday. 

We  climbed  out  on  the  roof-front,  —  a  dizzy  ledge,  just  wide 
enough  fora  chair,  —  and  looked  down,  five  or  six  stories'  depth 
into  the  avenue  below,  where  the  cortege,  small  enough  for  a 
royal  duke,  was  moving  along.  In  America,  a  duke  of  ours, 
who  had  "  benefacted "  a  city,  or  the  community,  would  have 
been  followed,  —  unless  he  forbade  it  beforehand,  —  by  a  mile 
or  two  of  civic  officers,  professions,  trades,  public  schools,  and 
institutions,  and  trailed  over  as  long  a  line  of  march  as  could  be 
doubled  and  twisted  through  the  principal  streets,  —  or  even  up 


208  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

and  down  the  land  through  principal  cities.  But  a  few  couples 
of  bare-headed  gentlemen  following  the  bier,  a  few  carriages, 
and  a  short  foot  procession  in  the  rear  of  these,  with  no  marks 
or  signs  about  anybody,  that  we  could  discern,  passed  by  here  in 
five  minutes,  and  that  was  all. 

We  were  helped  in  again,  with  cold  shivers  running  over  us, 
as  we  stood  and  turned  on  our  perilous  perch,  and  wondering 
what  we  had  done  it  for. 


....  We  have  been  to  the  Musee  Rath.  We  have  seen 
there,  — besides  ever  so  many  other  paintings,  modern  and  an 
tique,  and  sculptures  and  fragments  innumerable,  which  were 
wonderful  enough  to  look  at  at  the  time,  and  by  the  catalogue, 
but  which  fix  themselves  to  nothing  in  my  thought  or  sympa 
thy,  and  which  I  leave  there,  —  two  pictures  which  you  must 
look  at  with  me ;  because  while  I  stood  before  them,  everything 
else  vanished,  and  when  I  came  away  they  came  with  me,  and 
are  among  the  things  that  belong  to  me  henceforth. 

They  were  two  small  pictures,  painted  by  native  Swiss  artists 
not  supreme  in  talent,  or  widely  famous.  I  found  them  —  and 
they  found  me  —  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the  long  room  ;  the  face 
that  looked  out  of  the  first,  from  among  indistinct  surroundings, 

—  with  its  parted  hair,  its  broad,  patient  forehead,  its  deep,  suf 
fering,  loving  eyes,  its  sad,  sweet   lips,  —  was  like  the  face  of 
our  Lord,  as  it  has  been  best  imagined.     Not  in  mere  outline  ; 
there  was  no  imitation  ;  but  the  story  was  there,  out  of  which 
the  likeness  inevitably  grew.     I  have  seen  it  in  one  or  two  liv 
ing  faces.     It  is  the  story  of  them  who  "  die  to  make  men  free." 
Not  victims  of  cross  or   sword,  necessarily ;  they  might  be,  if 
the  path  led  that  way ;  but  the  daily  givers  of  their  lives.     Tt 
was  a  continual  giving,  —  an  hourly  enduring. 

I  did  not  need  to  glance  from  the  face  to  the  lesser  details  of 
the  picture,  —  which  I  really  hardly  dwelt  upon  to  remember, 

—  to  know  that  the  man  was  a  prisoner.    A  "  prisoner  of  hope  " 
to  others,  though  it  might  be  of  his  own  despair. 

I  turned  to  the  catalogue  and  read,  —  as  if  my  intuition 
printed  itself  at  the  moment,  —  "  Bonnivard." 

I  said  I  did  not  dwell  upon   the  details  of  his  surrounding; 


YESTERDAY   AND  TO-DAY.  209 

this  was  why.  I  had  just  been  in  the  real  surrounding  ;  I  was 
instantly  again  in  that  subterranean  dungeon,  standing  on  its  in 
dented,  rocky  floor;  the  pillar  and  chain  before  me,  —  the  one 
gleam  of  light  striking  in  through  the  narrow  opening  in  the 
thick  wall,  and  falling  upon  that  face  !  I  was  with  him,  bodily, 
in  his  prison,  —  in  whose  presence,  across  the  three  hundred 
years,  I  had  felt  myself  that  other  morning  in  Chillon.  I  could 
Slave  stretched  out  my  hands  to  him  in  pity,  love,  and  rever 
ence. 

"  Margaret !  "  I  called  softly ;  and  as  she  came  beside  me,  I 
took  her  hand  in  mine.  "  There  !  " 

She  saw,  and  caught  her  breath.  "  Chillon  !  Bonnivard  !  " 
she  said;  and  leaned  toward  the  picture  as  she  had  leaned 
toward  that  stony  pillow  where  the  heads  of  the  condemned  had 
rested. 

I  shall  never  recall  that  moment  without  a  feeling  as  if  I  had 
once  really  visited  him  in  his  captivity. 

"  There  is  another,"  she  said  presently.  "  There  is  a  '  Re 
lease.'  We  found  it  close  by." 

The  Genevese  patriots  are  entering  the  dungeons  of  the 
stormed  and  forced  stronghold. 

The  face  in  this  picture  is  not  so  striking  as  that  in  the  other  ; 
or  I  was  too  possessed  with  the  first.  I  carried  that  into  the 
second  scene,  as  I  had  carried  it  back  to  the  actual  prison.  I 
brought  but  one  face  —  from  the  two  —  away  with  me.  The 
two  together  made  us  eye-witnesses  of  the  man  and  his  grand 
moments.  As  we  had  been  eye-witnesses  of  that  crowning  in 
Notre  Dame.  Only,  how  far  holier  a  crowning  was  this  ! 

I  shall  never  drag  you  through  long  galleries,  Rose  ;  I  do  not 
think  I  shall  drag  myself  much  ;  but  wherever  in  Europe,  — 
and  I  doubt  if  there  be  many  wheres,  —  I  find  an  instant  and  a 
fact,  I  shall  long  to  make  you  enter  in  to  it  with  me.  I  doubt, 
moreover,  if  I  find  these  facts  and  instants  in  the  —  technically  — 
greatest  works.  "When  men  were  paid  for  an  altar-piece,  or  for 
the  fresco  of  so  many  square  yards  of  wall,  or  for  the  doing  of  a 
subject  that  had  been  done  to  literal  —  because  spiritual  — 
death  already,  I  do  not  think  the  Holy  Ghost  came  down,  al 
ways,  into  their  souls  and  fingers.  And  I  only  care  for  things 
14 


210  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

that  have  been  so  baptized  that  a  baptism  yet  flows  from  them. 
I  know  very  well  that  it  may  be  there  when  I  cannot  receive  it, 
not  being  worthy.  Then  I  will  say  nothing,  —  there  is  nothing 
for  me  to  say,  —  though  it  be  the  thing  that  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  declares  divine. 

Margaret  and  I  had  an  odd  little  talk  that  grew  from  the  see 
ing  of  this  picture. 

"  Why  is  it,"  she  asked  me,  "  that  the  parting  of  a  man's  hair 
upon  his  forehead  signifies  such  opposite  things  in  opposite 
people  ?  It  gives  the  noblest  expression,  —  and  it  gives  the 
meanest.  So  that  the  very  persons  who  find  it  beautiful  in  sa 
cred  pictures,  and  recognize  the  head  of  Christ  by  that  grand, 
meek  look,  laugh  at  a  modern  young  man  who  *  parts  his  hair  in 
the  middle?'" 

"  You  have  just  put  it  into  the  joining  of  those  two  words, — 
that  *  grand-meek  look.'  It  is  the  lowliness  of  grandeur,  — 
the  royal  meekness  of  the  head  that  is  bared  and  bent  for  anoint 
ing  and  for  crowning.  Nothing  can  wear  that  gentleness  that  is 
not  great.  When  a  silly  fellow  puts  it  on,  it  is  a  caricature. 
Or  rather  it  tells  too  small  and  positive  a  truth.  Besides,"  I 
said,  "  there  is  the  signification  of  the  hair  itself,  —  the  thing  it 
stands  for." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Patience  ?  " 

"  I  mean  the  living  fibres.  What  reaches  out  of  our  life,  and 
makes  toward  anything.  For  that  is  what  '  af-fection '  is.  I 
thought  it  out,  dear,  over  a  lock  of  mother's  hair.  It  is  all  I 
have  of  her — bodily  —  now.  And  I  used  to  wonder  why  hair 
lasted,  when  everything  else  that  belonged  to  the  mortal  per 
ished  away.  I  was  sure  there  must  be  a  meaning  in  it.  And  I 
believe  it  has  come  to  me,  explaining  many  things.  Hair  is 
'  electric  '  (and  that  is  another  word,  if  we  could  stop  over  it,  — 
full  of  a  life  that  elects)  ;  it  is  a  growth  out  of  very  vitality. 
It  is  an  outstreaming  and  conducting  of  a  force  of  being.  Fine, 
—  and  multitudinous,  —  millions  of  little  uncountable,  insepa 
rable  threads  ;  and  all  together  a  glory,  and  a  beauty,  and  an 
expression  of  the  person,  more  than  almost  anything.  And 
made  so  that  it  lasts  always  !  Was  n't  that  a  blessed  revelation, 


YESTERDAY   AND   TO-DAY.  211 

when  God  finished  man  with  an  imperishable  thing  ?  When 
He  made  something  that  we  could  hold  back  from  decay,  and 
keep  for  our  loving  comfort  when  all  other  touch  and  sight  has 
to  be  given  up  ?  " 

There  were  tears  in  Margaret's  eyes,  as  she  looked  at  me 
and  listened. 

"  I  have  a  lock  of  mother's  hair,  too,"  she  said.  "  I  thank 
you  so  much  for  telling  me.  I  think  after  this  it  will  seem 
like  her  own  living  touch  when  I  take  it  in  my  hand." 

"  I  think  it  was  given  to  seem  so,"  I  said. 

"  But  there  is  more,"  said  Margaret,  after  a  minute.  "  I  like 
all  your  meanings,  Miss  Patience.  Please  tell  me  the  rest. 
We  did  not  begin  with  that  sign." 

"  No ;  we  began  with  the  wearing.  Hair,  —  think  of  it  as 
af-fections,  mind,  —  parted  from  the  crown,  and  flowing  softly 
down,  seems  like  effluence  from  the  highest;  a  meek,  gentle 
giving  of  what  is  holy-royal,  divine.  A  small,  mean  man, 
—  or  even  a  man  whom  life  has  in  no  way  crowned,  —  hardly 
has  any  business  to  wear  it  so.  If  he  does,  it  changes  to  a  sign 
of  that  which,  descending  from  his  highest,  must  descend  to 
very  petty  things.  I  think  that  is  the  feeling  it  gives  us, 
though  perhaps  it  seems  fanciful  put  into  words.  Strong,  im 
petuous  persons  have  much  hair.  Esau  was  a  hairy  man ;  the 
politic,  small,  calculating  Jacob  was  smooth.  Selfish,  earthly 
affections,  left  loose  and  wandering  and  unchecked  in  their 
growth,  are  like  Absalom's  hair ;  getting  entangled  in  mate 
rial  things  and  betraying  to  death.  Samson's  hair,  grown 
long,  and  strong,  and  generous,  was  his  power ;  cut  short  by 
a  light  woman  who  seduced  him  to  his  own  pleasures,  it  left 
him  helpless  to  be  bound.  Hair,  tossed,  confused,  disheveled, 
is  a  sign  of  recklessness,  wildness,  grief;  all  the  feelings  astray 
or  in  commotion.  A  woman  binds  her  hair  about  her  head ;  it 
is  seemly,  feminine  restraint.  Men  have  cut  off  their  hair, 
to  express  austerity,  moderation,  control ;  the  Puritans  were 
Iloundheads ;  the  rollicking  Cavaliers  wore  floating  curls.  It 
is  impossible  to  help  expressing  character  in  the  lines  and  ar 
rangements  of  the  hair.  The  fashions  of  the  hair  show  the 
temper  of  the  time.  Hair  grows  white  as  we  grow  old ;  it  is 


212  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

purified  from  earthiness  as  we  grow  toward  the  time  of  being 
like  Him  who  was  seen  in  the  vision  with  '  hair  like  wool.' 
Mary  wiped  the  feet  of  Jesus  with  her  hair ;  she  turned  her 
best  love  into  lowliest  service.  We  '  cannot  make  one  hair 
white  or  black ; '  it  is  ;  God  that  worketh  in  us  to  will  and  to 
do.'  Beautiful,  true  affections  come  from  Him  only.  And 
what  He  has  given,  He  does  not  destroy.  '  The  hairs  of  our 
heads  are  all  numbered.'  So  we  came  back  to  personal  heart- 
loves  again,  and  the  promise  for  them  by  the  sign  of  the  inde 
structible.  '  Your  hearts  shall  live  forever.'  " 

I  stopped  there.  I  had  run  on  longer  than  I  meant ;  it  was 
quite  a  lecture.  But  Margaret  cared  for  it.  She  said,  — 

"  I  like  it,  —  all,  Miss  Patience.  I  should  like  to  find  all  the 
places  in  the  Bible  where  hair  is  spoken  of.  Why,  it  is  a  new 
way  to  find  out  the  Bible,  —  by  such  meanings,  —  isn  't  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  the  way.  When  I  hear  people  say,  of  things  in 
the  Scriptures,  — '  Oh,  that  is  figurative,'  —  as  if  that  disposed  of 
it  altogether  and  turned  it  into  nothing,  —  I  think,  '  Oh  how 
you  let  the  keys  fall  from  your  hands ! '  The  beauty  —  and 
the  necessity  —  of  the  Bible  is  that  it  is  in  figures ;  figures  of 
story  and  figures  of  speech ;  the  things  that  in  the  beginning 
had  live,  direct  meaning,  because  language  was  the  gathering  of 
signs  together  that  God  Himself  had  made,  —  in  men's  histories, 
and  in  the  world  they  live  their  histories  in,  —  and  had  set 
them  over  against  each  other  that  they  might  be  antiphonies 
and  interpretations  to  each  other  forever.  '  Figures  do  not  lie,' 
is  a  proverb  as  true  of  things  as  it  is  of  numbers." 

A  little  while  before,  we  had  been  tracing  out  our  coming 
journey  upon  a  map  of  Savoy.  The  book  lay  in  Margaret's 
lap,  as  she  had  left  it  lying  when  our  talk  began,  —  out  of  some 
little  thing  I  asked  her  if  she  remembered  in  those  pictures  at 
the  Musee. 

She  took  it  up  as  I  stopped  speaking,  and  her  eye  fell  again 
upon  the  delineations  of  the  mountain  ridges,  the  valley  lines, 
the  white  spaces  where  were  the  snow  summits. 

"What  figures  of  things  we  ought  to  see  here!"  she  said, 
touching  her  finger  to  the  leaf. 

"  Yes.     Switzerland  is  an  awful,  beautiful  writing.     A  show- 


YESTERDAY  AND   TO-DAY.  213 

ing  in  great,  tremendous  forms.  We  ought  to  go  in  among 
them  as  into  presences  of  the  inner  world." 

"  Shall  we  ?  "  asked  Margaret,  slowly. 

I  did  not  dare  to  answer  her. 

There  are  two  goings  ;  the  going  of  the  body  with  its  cares, 
and  pleasures,  and  details ;  and  the  going  of  the  soul,  led  se 
cretly  in  the  hand  of  God. 

"When  I  write  next,  I  shall  have  seen  Mont  Blanc. 


214  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

BEFORE  MONT  BLANC. 


....  THE  finest  diligence  and  diligence-route  in  Switzer 
land,  is  from  Geneva  to  Chamounix. 

It  was  more  like  the  ride  from  London  to  Tunbridge,  as  to 
conveyance  and  pure  traveling  pleasure,  than  anything  I  ex 
pected  to  have  again. 

We  had  glorious  weather,  and  outside  seats.  We  occupied 
the  cushioned  bench  next  behind  the  driver's  seat ;  overhead 
was  a  cover,  open  at  the  sides. 

We  passed  through  pleasant  suburbs,  and  out  into  green 
valley-lands,  among  farms  and  through  country  villages.  Great 
mountains  rimmed  the  horizon,  but  it  was  a  good  while  before 
we  came  really  among  their  scenery.  Toward  noon  they  be 
gan  to  shut  around  us,  as  we  penetrated  the  deeper  valley  of 
the  Arve.  For  a  long  way,  then,  we  had  only  river  and  mount 
ains  ;  the  road  skirting  along  the  stream,  and  heading  toward 
apparently  impenetrable  barriers  of  cliff,  that  stretched  and 
towered  in  the  south,  while  at  our  left  rose  high,  precipitous 
slopes  from  which  shining  cascades  were  falling  like  white 
threads,  disappearing  to  glance  out  again  lower  and  lower, 
till  their  pleasant  runlets  crossed  our  pathway  and  found  the 
river. 

The  beautiful  fall  of  Arpenaz,  a  glory  of  bursting  foam,  held 
our  eyes  in  a  lingering  backward  watch  which  would  not  be 
satisfied,  though  the  delightsome  thing  had  kept  in  our  forward 
sight  so  long. 

These  white,  scattered  waters,  —  exploded  into  loveliness 
from  their  first  leap  off  the  sudden  edge,  where  there  is  no 
more  pathway,  until  the  myriad  silver-flashing  particles  gather 


BEFORE   MONT    BLANC.  215 

themselves  from  scores  of  wild,  bewildered  trickles  into  one 
current  and  channel  again,  to  break  farther  down  over  another 
brink,  and  shiver  into  a  new  splendor !  Over  and  over  again 
they  form  and  dash  asunder  and  reform,  as  they  hurry  down 
the  jagged  mountain-side,  itself  torn  first  into  savage  rifts  that 
rend  again  so  savagely. 

"  Over  and  over  again ! "  repeated  itself  in  my  thoughts  in  a 
kind  of  mechanical  way.  Over  and  over  ;  spilled  and  gathered 
up  !  How  much  is  done  over  and  over,  for  us  and  in  us  ! 

There  was  a  man  sent,  —  sent  ignorantly,  reluctantly,  —  to 
wash,  seven  times ;  and  he  came  at  last,  made  clean  in  his 
flesh,  like  a  little  child.  Who  knows  what  any  repetition 
does?  For  this  water,  even,  coming  down,  in  its  whitening 
plunges,  through  these  reiterated  shocks  ? 

The  Patience  that  abides,  knows  what  it  does  for  us,  while 
the  repeatings  go  on.  Sinning,  and  sorrowing ;  wandering  and 
returning ;  scattering  in  atoms  and  gathering  up ;  washing,  and 
wayfaring,  and  washing  again  ! 

Over  and  over  again, 

Seek  me,  lest  I  should  lose  Thee ! 
Over  and  over  again 

Call  me,  —  make  me  to  choose  Thee  ! 
Over  and  over  again 

Wash  me,  from  sin  after  sin; 
Sevenfold  baptism  in  Jordan 

Give  me,  that  I  may  be  clean  ! 

It  is  the  "  seventy  times  seven  "  that  we  dare  to  pray  for, 
because  we  are  commanded  to  render  it  also. 

The  valley  widened  out.  We  began  to  see,  in  the  rolling 
aside  of  the  near  mountains,  as  by  a  grand  scene-shifting,  the 
farther,  mightier  domes  and  shafts  of  the  masses  and  needles  of 
the  Mont  Blanc  range,  and  at  last  —  but  I  will  not  tell  you  of 
the  first  flashes  of  its  glory  ;  we  came  face  to  face  with  it  at 
Sallanches. 

The  diligence  stopped  at  the  village  inn,  just  before  we  came 
to  the  bridge  which  spans  the  Arve,  and  so  lies  straight  across 
the  valley  line. 

Down,  —  was  it  down,  or  up,  or  away  ?  Off  there,  at  the  left, 
down  the  wide,  beautiful  gorge,  up  into  the  whole  heaven  that  tho 


216  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

valley  slopes  framed  in,  away  in  a  distance  measured  by  point 
after  point  in  the  vista,  but  close  in  a  wonderful  nearness  by  its 
mighty  assumption  to  itself  of  all  presence  and  splendor  that  were 
abroad  in  the  visible  circle  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  —  in 
the  outpouring  of  the  day,  in  the  spaces  that  the  parted  heights 
made,  standing  right  and  left  before  majesty ;  in  the  rush  arid 
shine  of  the  river,  speeding  like  a  swift,  brilliant  messenger 
before  the  king,  sent  forth  from  the  awful  privacies  of  his  ice- 
chambers,  —  Mont  Blanc  showed  itself  in  its  vast  white  glory  to 
our  sight ! 

The  noon  sun,  through  the  clear,  deep  blue,  flooded  down 
light  upon  it.  The  air,  pure  from  its  snows,  was  like  a  life  and 
cleanness  born  and  diffused  from  its  being ;  the  movement  of 
trees  and  waterfalls,  and  floating  clouds  less  white  than  that 
primal  whiteness,  seemed  to  wait  upon  its  central  stillness, 
where  there  was  nothing  that  could  stir  except  the  viewless 
avalanches,  and  the  slow,  invisible  march  of  the  ice-rivers. 

It  was  there ;  all  else  stood  in  a  mere  attendance.  The  little 
horizons  that  we  had  known  before,  with  no  Mont  Blanc  iu 
them,  seemed  suddenly,  as  we  recollected  them,  to  have  no  pur 
pose  or  revelation  in  comparison. 

We  moved  on,  crossing  the  river.  "We  wound  away,  along 
the  heights,  and  through  the  closing  forests,  up  the  left  bank  of 
the  river.  In  an  hour  or  so,  we  came  into  a  deep,  green  side- 
gorge  of  the  hills,  to  which  the  road  turned  off.  Its  wildness 
and  seclusion,  and  yet  this  fine  highway  leading  us  far  into  its 
fastness,  —  its  thronging  forest,  its  sounding  waters,  —  at  last, 
its  great,  open,  park-like  glade,  traversed  by  pathways  which 
wandered  thence  up  the  surrounding  ascents,  or  away  into  un- 
traceable  woods,  —  were  like  some  palace  grounds  of  a  dream- 
legend.  We  drove  on  and  on,  until  we  came  to  the  low,  out 
stretching  front  of  a  pretty,  rambling  hotel.  It  was  the  Baths 
of  St.  Gervais. 

We  were  half-tempted  to  stay  here,  and  put  off  even  Cham- 
ounix.  If  we  had  had  a  little  more  time,  we  would  have  done 
so.  But  the  lovely  places,  where  one  can  see  whole  worlds  of 
delight  opening  into  possibility,  that  one  passes  by  in  Europe  on 
the  way  to  the  few  that  one  must  choose,  —  they  are  like  the 


BEFORE   MONT    BLANC.  217 

"children  of  the  desolate,"  more  in  number  than  the  realized 
and  born.  They  lie  along  every  route. 

Margaret  and  Edith  were  nearly  distracted  with  the  beauty 
of  this.  "  Oh,  such  days,  —  such  mornings  and  evenings  as  we 
could  have  here  ! "  they  said. 

But  we  only  had  our  one  brief  ecstasy  — and  our  dinner. 

The  diligence  goes  no  farther.  Carriages,  —  shabby  old 
"voitures,"  but  open,  roomy,  and  comfortable,  —  waited  for  us, 
and  appropriated  our  luggage  while  we  dined.  We  found  our 
selves  billeted  to  one  over  which  two  or  three  men,  porters  and 
"cochers,"  were  squabbling  when  we  came  out,  in  the  claiming 
and  defense  of  our  hand-baggage. 

We  got  in  as  we  were  told,  paid  the  nearest  outstretched 
hands,  which  were  probably  the  wrong  ones  ;  and  our  coach 
man,  scrambling  to  his  seat,  drove  us  off  out  of  the  wolf-pack,  as 
his  own  particular  prey  to  be  devoured  at  leisure. 

Then  began  the  afternoon  that  will  forever  be  alive  to  us. 

Up,  —  up,  —  up,  —  over  the  superb  road,  parapeted  with  low, 
solid  mason-work,  which  the  French  Imperial  Government  built 
along  mountain  ledges  overhanging,  at  dizzier  and  dizzier 
heights,  the  tumbling,  plunging  Arve. 

Again  we  saw  river  and  meadows  and  villages  drop  —  drop 
beneath  us  as  we  climbed.  Again  we  breasted  mighty  masses 
of  fir-clothed  steeps.  The  hills  rolled  slowly  about  us  again  in 
everchanging  relation,  closing  and  parting  and  folding  against 
each  other,  as  we  threaded  the  water-defile,  mounting  steadily  to 
a  higher  and  yet  higher  line. 

I  cannot  tell  you  exactly  where  we  began  to  see  it,  or  how 
long  we  rode  first,  finding  wonder  and  loveliness  enough  to  make 
us  forget  to  expect  or  look  for  it  again  ;  but  at  some  turn  we 
saw  suddenly  hang  above  us  in  the  very  sky,  —  o'er  all  the 
other  mountain  tops,  —  that  great  white  Mount  of  God! 

And  after  that  we  never  lost  it. 

Margaret  and  Edith  stood  up  on  the  front  seat  of  the  car 
riage  ;  the  driver  walked  beside  his  horses ;  Emery  Ann  and  I 
leaned  from  our  cushioned  corners  at  each  side,  as  we  climbed 
and  followed  in  and  out  the  road  that  lies  like  the  ribbon  of  an 
Order  across  the  shoulders  of  the  outstanding  hills  gathered  in 


218  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

only  a  lesser  lordliness  about  the  Monarch  too  great  and 
greatly  retinued  ever  to  be  wholly  manifest. 

The  nearer  you  approach  to  him,  the  farther  he  enfolds  him 
self  within  his  regal  state.  It  is  only  by  climbing  some  sub 
ordinate  peak  and  looking  over  from  afar,  that  you  can  see  the 
spreading  of  his  ermine  that  rolls  itself  away  in  leagues  of 
splendor,  and  trace  the  flashing  lines  of  his  belting  and  border 
ing  ice-jewels.  But  his  head  towers  up  into  the  heavens,  wear 
ing  the  sunshine  for  a  crown ;  and  his  mighty  shoulders  fill  and 
shut  the  arching  space.  There  is  no  horizon.  There  is  only  a 
blue  zenith,  and  Mont  Blanc ! 

We  came  down  into  Chamounix  in  the  sunset. 

We  descended  by  long  windings,  as  we  had  climbed ;  only 
after  penetrating  those  upreaching  aisles  among  the  crowding 
pinnacles,  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  only  goal  could  be  some 
height  that  was  to  hold  us  everlastingly,  we  began  to  thread  and 
drop  downward,  and  to  find  ourselves  once  more  above  a  valley, 
beyond  whose  opposite  side  the  mountain  ranges  gathered  their 
great  skirts  back  again,  while  between  came  down  the  glaciers, 
—  gray-white,  with  beryl  gleams,  —  that  had  traveled  through 
the  ages  from  the  far,  eternal  snow.  From  the  bosom  of  the 
yet  remote  Mont  Blanc,  whose  head,  above  and  beyond  all  else, 
yet  still  so  near  in  its  impending  height,  hung  over  the  little 
nestling  village  that  we  entered  in  the  dusk. 

We  could  not  be  taken  in  at  once  at  Hotel  Couttet,  down  in 
the  mountain-brooded  angle  by  the  river,  where  we  had  chosen 
to  make  our  stay.  Chamounix  was  at  its  fullest.  But  there 
was  a  "dependance"  in  the  village,  if  we  would  lodge  there 
till  to-morrow,  and  come  here  for  our  meals. 

So  we  drove  on,  up  the  narrow  street  with  its  holiday  air  of 
occupancy  by  strange,  transient  comers,  —  its  open  doors  and 
lattice-windows,  —  its  groups  of  guides  and  porters,  —  its  carriage 
loads  and  mule  parties  of  pleasurers  returning  from  their  day's 
excursions ;  and  stopped  at  a  low,  narrow  entrance,  like  all  the 
rest,  over  which  projected  a  tiny  balcony  filled  with  blossoming 
plants.  Inside,  we  found  bare  floors,  scrubbed  clean,  large 
rooms  scantily  furnished,  an  upper  hall  opening  by  a  long  win 
dow  upon  the  flower  balcony,  from  which  we  saw  the  last  rosy 
shine  upon  the  crest  of  the  great  mountain. 


BEFORE   MONT   BLANC.  219 

As  we  stood  there,  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  passed 
below  in  the  street ;  among  them  one  stout  dame,  in  a  "  chaise 
a  porteurs."  It  was  the  first  one  we  had  seen. 

"  Look  here,  Emery  Ann  !  "  I  called  to  that  worthy  woman, 
who  although  Mont  Blanc  was  smiling  his  last  upon  the  little 
village  which  lives  upon  his  greatness,  was  already  carefully 
unstrapping  the  portmanteau  in  our  room  within.  "  Here  is 
the  sort  of  thing  you  and  I  will  be  carried  in  to-morrow, 
perhaps." 

"Lugged  along  like  that!  By  two  men!  Harnessed  they 
are ;  see  the  straps !  And  shaking  like  that  ?  The  woman 
looks  as  if  she  was  made  of  jelly  !  " 

"  But  you  are  not  made  of  jelly,  Emery  Ann.  You  wouldn't 
shake.  The  men  would  bless  their  luck  in  getting  light  jobs 
like  you  and  me.  You  could  n't  ride  a  mule,  you  see." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  about  it  yet.  I  'm  sure  I  don't  see 
myself  in  a  thing  like  that."  And  with  a  bottle  in  one  hand, 
and'  a  sponge-bag  in  the  other,  just  as  she  had  answered  my 
call,  she  went  back  to  her  portmanteau. 

We  were  too  tired  to  walk  back  to  the  hotel.  So  we  or 
dered  our  suppers  on  trays,  and  the  servants  from  the  hotel 
brought  them.  Tea  and  rolls,  butter  and  honey,  very  good 
cold  chicken,  and  grapes.  We  set  it  out  on  the  deal  table  in 
the  middle  of  our  front  room,  and  managed  nicely. 

After  tea,  the  woman  of  the  house  sent  for  the  chief  of  the 
guides,  and  we  arranged  with  him  about  to-morrow's  excursion. 
He  promised  us  good  men  and  mules  and  chairs.  Emery  Ann 
submitted  to  she  knew  not  what.  Because  she  did  not  know 
the  other  thing  either. 

So  to-morrow  we  were  to  go  up  the  Montanvert 


220  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE  SEA   OF  ICE. 


....  WHAT  a  glorious  morning  lightened  upon  the  sombro 
forest-haired  heads,  and  the  farther  snow-shine  of  those  tower 
ing  Alps  that  overhung  us  !  And  what  delicious  life  sprang  in 
us  to  meet  the  fresh,  unknown  delight  of  the  day ! 

Margaret  and  Edith  came  forth  like  morning  blooms  ;  every 
thing  about  them,  from  their  hair  to  their  boots,  with  the  morn 
ing  touch  upon  it,  and  elastic  with  bright,  neat  readiness. 

Underneath  our  windows,  while  we  ate  our  breakfasts,  we 
heard  the  hoofs  of  the  mules  and  the  voices  of  the  men,  early- 
punctual,  but  quite  prepared  to  wait  our  pleasure. 

The  two  girls  drank  coffee  and  put  biscuits  in  their  pockets ; 
they  also  made  paper  horns  which  they  filled  with  large,  sweet 
grapes,  and  begged  Emery  Ann  and  me  to  carry  in  our  laps. 
They  were  too  eager  and  excited  to  eat  much. 

Emery  Ann  and  I  behaved  as  wisely  as  we  could;  but  the 
"  girl "  asserted  herself  in  me  beyond  what  I  had  supposed 
possible,  and  I  think  Emery  Ann  was  half  pleasurably  and 
half  apprehensively  "  tuned  up." 

When  our  cavalcade  moved  down  the  village  street,  we  felt 
as  if  the  novelty  to  us  were  as  great  a  novelty  and  conspicu- 
ousness  to  the  lookers  on,  and  that  our  advent  in  Chamounix 
was  as  funny  and  fine  a  frolic  as  the  same  equipment  and  set 
ting  off  would  have  been  in  Dearwood  or  Hilslowe. 

Margaret  and  Edith  were  both  at  home  on  horseback ;  but 
the  round  seats  of  the  railed  saddles,  and  the  yanking  jolt  of 
the  mule-gait  were  things  to  begin  over  again  with.  A  few 
rods,  however,  enabled  them  to  adapt  themselves  to  new  con 
ditions,  and  even  to  put  their  pretty  figures  into  a  graceful 


THE   SEA   OF  ICE.  221 

harmony  with  the  otherwise  ungainly  motion.  For  there  is 
nothing  ungainly,  after  all,  but  inharmoniousness.  A  good 
will  is  becomingness ;  you  can  grow  old,  —  you  can  be  poor, 

—  with  a  consent  which  is  a  grace  ;  why  not  ride  a  mule  ? 
Emery  Ann  and  I  were  swinging  in  the  square  chairs  with 

sacking  seats  softened  by  cushions ;  our  shawls  at  our  backs, 
ani  our  feet  on  the  narrow  foot-boards  that  swung  also,  by  short 
cords.  The  men,  with  the  poles  on  which  the  chairs  were  set 
slipped  through  loops  of  leather  hung  from  broad  shoulder- 
bands,  and  grasping  the  pole-ends  in  their  strong  fingers,  had 
fallen  into  a  measured  stride  to  which  it  was  our  work  of  grace 
to  get  accustomed  ;  for  at  first  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  fine  little 
snap  happened  in  my  ears  and  the  back  of  my  head  at  every 
second  footfall ;  but  it  wore  off  as  we  proceeded,  and  I  began  to 
exult  in  a  pedestrianism  I  could  never  have  accomplished  for 
myself,  and  to  feel  as  if  all  the  play  of  the  muscles  and  the  free, 
unlabored  swing  of  the  walk,  and  the  joy  of  assured  power  over 
the  splendid  distance  that  lay  forth  before  us  to  be  gathered  in 
step  by  step,  were  my  very  own.  It  was  like  being  a  strong 
man,  with  a  full  credit  of  strength  to  draw  upon,  instead  of  a 
feeble  woman  who  pays  painfully  as  she  goes,  and  realizes  her 
shortening  limit  with  every  disbursement. 

The  meadows,  —  the  long  field-paths  through  the  farm-places, 

—  the  far-off  foot  of  the  hills  whose  heads  leaned  over  us  closely 
when  we  could  see  their  heads  only,  —  the  wild  climb  up  their 
sides   by  undiscerned  ways    to   be   unraveled  as  we   followed 
them,  —  the  distant  ridges  and  summits,  —  all  were  ours;  yes, 
and  every  little  blade  and  flower  and  mosscup  and  pebble  upon 
the  path,  as  they  are  only  to  those  who  walk.     I  was  entering 
into  a  pleasure  the  mere  mechanical  part  of  which  I  had  not 
known  since  I  was  a  little  tireless,  springing  child,  or  a  girl  full 
of  gay  energy  and  delight  in  doing.     And  beside  all,  —  more 
over,  —  it  was  among  the  Alps,  and  into  the  very  glory  of  them. 
Do  you  catch  the  joy  with  me,  Rose  ?     I  hope  so. 

Two  porters  carried  each  chair,  and  two  for  each,  to  alter 
nate  in  service,  walked.  We  had,  therefore,  an  imposing  train. 

We  passed  through  a  kind  of  stile,  or  gate,  and  crossed  a 
farm-yard,  after  we  left  the  village ;  then  we  traversed  the  re- 


222  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

mainder  of  the  valley  intervale ;  then  moved  along  under  the 
very  base  of  a  mighty  mountain,  till  we  struck  the  beginning 
of  a  "  zigzag,"  and  began  to  ascend.  As  we  turned  the  second 
sharp  corner,  and  the  mules  came  just  below  and  beside  us,  in 
following,  Edith  called  up  to  me,  — 

"  How  do  you  feel,  auntie  ?  " 

"  I  feel,"  I  answered,  "  as  if  I  were  being  carried  by  the  angels 
into  Abraham's  bosom." 

They  laughed,  merrily  enough ;  but  I  was  in  sober,  blessed 
earnest. 

"  Emery  Ann  !     How  do  you  like  it  ?  "  called  Edith  again. 

"  Well  —  it  ain't  so  ridiculous  to  do,  as  it  was  to  look  at. 
Most  things  ain't,"  returned  the  honest-minded  woman,  serenely. 

"  There  is  n't  a  bit  of  it  to  skip,  is  there  ? "  said  Margaret. 
"Just  look  over  the  valley  there,  against  that  other  wall  of 
mountains.  And  see  away  up  over  their  tops  and  down  upon 
them,  how  the  clouds  roll  and  tumble !  It  is  all  blue  over 
us  ;  but  they  have  their  own  separate  weather.  It  looks  black 
enough,  does  n't  it  ?  Is  it  that  it  will  make  bad  weather  here, 
think  you  ? "  she  asked  in  French  of  her  guide,  —  one  of  the 
velay-men  managing  the  mules. 

"It  is  very  possible, — later,"  he  answered.  "But  perhaps, 
no.  They  are  thunder-storms  on  the  other  side  of  the  mount 
ains,  there." 

This  was  comforting,  to  Emery  Ann  and  me,  who  are  both 
afraid  in  thunder-storms.  But  as  you  can  tell  nothing  about 
the  caprices  of  clouds  and  mountain  tops  in  these  regions,  where, 
as  Margaret  said,  every  peak  has  its  own  weather,  —  we  re 
solved  to  abide  in  our  own  sunshine,  and  watch  the  darkening 
majesty  over  there  as  a  part  of  that  sublimity  we  had  come  out 
to  see. 

We  heard  low,  long,  echoing  growls  repeating  themselves 
behind  the  great  ramparts,  and  the  black  and  gray  masses  of 
vapor  surged  over  their  brims,  as  if  overflowing  a  mighty  basin 
from  which  they  might  spill,  but  not  lift  themselves  away.  At 
home,  over  our  blue  hills,  such  a  cloud  as  one  of  those  would 
have  climbed  in  an  hour  or  two  and  swept  across  the  country 
with  its  shower.  To  see  it  boil  up  in  the  southwest  would  be 


THE   SEA   OF   ICE.  223 

to  be  sure  of  its  coming.  But  here  it  clung  to  its  mountain 
cradle,  whose  ridge  divided  even  the  firmament  upon  that  side 
from  the  firmament  upon  this. 

We  were  sometimes  lost  in  the  deep  shade  of  fir  thickets, 
through  or  across  which,  ever  from  right  to  left  and  from  left  to 
right,  ascended  the  sharply  angled  pathway  ;  as  if  by  some  law  of 
harmony  in  things,  a  human  foot  track  up  a  mountain  side  must 
make  a  line  like  that  of  the  lightning  when  it  comes  down  over 
its  cloud-mountains  upon  these  rocky  sides  and  summits,  seizing 
its  points  where  it  finds  them,  and  rushing  to  and  fro  in  its  keen 
swift  zigzags. 

Sometimes  we  followed  an  open  ledge,  and  then  below  us  lay 
the  whole  lovely  valley  with  its  streams  and  villages,  from  Les 
Ouches  at  the  southern  mouth  of 'it  to  Argentieres  northward, 
on  the  road  to  Tete  Noire  and  Col  de  Balme. 

Over  across,  the  enormous  elevations  of  the  Brevent  and  the 
Flegere,  and  the  sharp  Aiguilles  of  their  range,  shooting  up 
their  dagger  thrusts  into  the  azure  softness  or  piercing  the  clouds 
like  huge  lances  seizing  trophies  out  of  heaven,  —  reared  and 
stretched  along  the  sky  ;  while  above  our  heads  the  awful  spires 
of  the  Aiguille  Verte  and  the  Aiguille  du  Dru  measured  the 
upper  depth  to  a  profound  that  no  mere  blue  void  suggests  the 
mystery  of. 

The  strange  neighborhood  of  mighty  forms  set  over  against 
each  other,  opened  here  yet  more  marvelously  to  us  that  revela 
tion  of  the  heights  which  I  felt  and  spoke  of  in  our  first  ap 
proach  to  Alp-presences. 

Face  to  face  with  these  near,  huge  bulks,  or  more  striking 
still,  looking  away  up,  with  heads  bent  backward,  to  their  im 
pending  immensity,  one  feels  as  if  the  celestial  globes,  changed 
from  far  fire-points  to  real  earth-masses  in  their  near-coming, 
were  wheeling  alongside  our  planet ;  as  if  great  arks  of  heaven 
were  sailing  by. 

"  We  are  '  realizing '  our  Astronomy,  now,"  I  said  to  Edith 
as  she  came  close  behind  me,  and  I  turned  my  head  to  see  her 
face  and  the  wonder  in  it.  "  It  is  like  a  fleet  of  worlds." 

"  I  did  not  know  what  it  was  making  me  think  of,  "  replied 
Edith.  "  You  always  say  a  thing,  and  then  I  find  out  that  I 
was  feeling  of  it  in  the  dark." 


224  SIGHTS  AND  JNSIGHTS. 

The  four  men  set  down  our  chairs  upon  a  level  space,  side  by 
side,  and  while  the  four  others  came  forward  and  leisurely  ad 
justed  their  straps  and  picked  us  up,  Emery  Ann  and  I  had  a 
word  together. 

"  What  is  it  like  ?  "  I  asked  her.  She  had  not  heard  a  sylla 
ble  before. 

For  all  reply,  she  began  to  sing  lines  of  the  thrilling  old 
Methodist  hymn :  — 

'*  O  what  ship  is  this  that  comes  sailing  by  ? 

0  Glory  !  Hallelujah  ! 
0  what  ship  is  this  that  comes  sailing  by  ? 

0  Glory  !  Hallelujah  ! 
'Tis  the  Great  Ship  of  Zion,  hallelujah! 
'T  is  the  Great  Ship  of  Zion,  hallelujah  ! 

She  has  saved  as  many  thousands,  and  will  save  as  many  more, 
For  Jesus  is  her  Captain,  hallelujah  !  " 

"  Only,"  she  said,  dropping  into  quiet,  impressed  speech,  — 
"  there  's  a  whole  squadron  of  them.  It 's  as  if  the  Lord  and 
all  his  prophets  were  sailing  down  to  judgment  and  salvation." 

Her  weird  religious  imagination  of  the  thing  did  not  surprise 
me.  She  had  grown  up  amid  the  mysticism  and  passion  of  re 
vivals  and  camp-meetings,  and  the  tremendous  imagery  of  Rev 
elation  had  been  the  poetry  of  her  youth. 

"  It  is  an  awful  and  a  wonderful  '  passing,'  Emery  Ann,"  I 
said. 

"  Like  what  Moses  saw  when  the  Lord  put  him  in  the  cleft 
of  the  rock,"  she  answered. 

Edith  caught  an  infection  from  Emery  Ann's  hymn,  and  all 
at  once  her  sweet,  clear  voice  sounded  through  the  wood -stillness 
as  we  entered  a  forest  path  again,  — 

"  O'er  mountain-tops  the  Mount  of  God 

In  latter  days  shall  rise, 
And  bring  the  Canaan  that  we  love 
To  our  beseeching  eyes." 

Margaret  joined  her  rich  contralto  tones.  I  shall  never  play 
that  old  psalm-tune  again  out  of  the  book  at  home  on  a  Sunday 
evening,  without  feeling  myself  among  these  Alps,  with  the 
vision  as  of  the  City,  indeed,  descending  out  of  heaven. 

We  rounded  a  great  sweep,  and  came  under  a  precipice  wall 


THE   SEA   OF  ICE.  225 

"  Behold  !  the  Sea  of  Ice  !  "  said  my  porter,  behind  me. 

Over  a  wide  brink  we  saw  the  frozen  restlessness ;  the  up 
heaved,  broken  waves,  and  surges ;  the  swift  lines  of  a  moveless 
current ;  the  green  gleams  ;  the  vast  downpour  of  the  solid  cat 
aract  from  far  secret  heights,  sloping  and  urging  with  a  mighty 
leisure  toward  the  waiting  valley.  From  abysses  above,  over 
which  the  Domes  and  Needles  leaned  and  towered,  to  abysses 
below,  it  swept  past  us  in  a  dread  stillness. 

We  had  turned  at  right  angles  to  the  valley  of  Chamounix. 
Over  opposite,  now,  was  the  grim  bulwark  of  the  Chapeau,  to 
which  should  cross  upon  this  glacial  sea.  The  tumultuous  heaps 
and  pillars  of  the  Mont  Blanc  range  on  the  right,  above  us,  — 
and  the  barbicans  of  the  Brevent  and  the  Flegere,  and  the  Red 
Needles  behind  them,  beyond  Chamounix  upon  the  left,  closed 
in,  seemingly,  around  the  icy  expanse,  and  shut  it  to  its  own 
solitude.  Whether  in  this  world  or  out  of  it,  we  could  scarcely 
realize  ;  so  separate  and  awful  was  the  place. 

Our  chairs  were  set  down  beside  a  little  chalet-inn  ;  the  girls 
were  lifted  from  their  mules ;  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go 
in  for  our  noon  rest.  And  inside  there  were  toys  and  orna 
ments  of  Mont  Blanc  agates,  and  wood-carvings,  and  dinner. 
Other  parties  of  people  were  here  also.  We  had  been  meeting 
excursionists  on  mules  and  on  foot,  now  and  then,  as  we  had  as 
cended  ;  trickles  of  the  world-stream  that  is  spreading  itself 
everywhere  among  these  solemn  wastes.  And  here  at  the 
culm  and  climax,  was  the  world's  traffic  also.  There  are  money 
changers  i«  every  temple. 

Excellent  omelettes  and  coffee  we  had,  though,  and  found 
needful.  We  bought  sleeve-buttons,  too,  and  little  cups,  and 
vases,  exquisitely  wrought  and  polished ;  also  such  bits  of 
carved  work  as  we  could  easily  carry  away.  We  found,  beside, 
some  striking  stereoscopic  views  of  mountain  and  glacial  scen 
ery.  We  knew  we  should  like  them  after  we  got  home,  though 
in  the  face  of  the  original  realities,  the  bits  of  pasteboard  wero 
as  merest  rubbish. 

Chairs  and  mules  were  to  be  given  up  here  ;  the  latter  to  be 
sent  round  by  some   other  way,  to  meet  us  on  the  Chapeau  ; 
the  former  to  be  borne  empty  across  the  perilous  ice-path. 
15 


226  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

They  carried  Emery  Ann  and  me  as  far  down  as  they  dared, 
and  a  fearful  clinging  it  was  to  rail  and  foot-board,  as  the  chairs 
swung  and  slanted  in  the  steep,  slippery  descent.  Reaching 
nearly  a  level,  we  were  glad  to  give  them  up  ;  and  with  a  guide 
grasping  each  of  us  by  the  wrist,  we  began  our  walk  across  the 
glacier. 

Sometimes  we  climbed  huge  blocks  thrown  confusedly  to 
gether  ;  sometimes  we  stepped  across  narrow  rifts  down  which 
we  could  look  and  see  them  widen  into  caverns,  or  cut  straight 
down  to  interminable  depths.  We  walked  around  little  lakes 
and  pools  upon  the  melting  surface ;  we  struggled  across  wild 
debris  ;  we  paused  and  looked  up  and  down  the  vast  opening 
that  the  torrent  made,  and  in  which  it  lay  with  its  petrified  cas 
cades,  and  long,  sweeping  slants,  hemmed  in  on  every  side,  ap 
parently,  by  the  gigantic  and  eternal  heights.  Everywhere  a 
great  seethe  of  elemental  force  ;  a  press  of  power ;  the  work 
ing  of  an  age-long  change,  so  mighty  that  it  was  still ;  so  tre 
mendous  that  it  seemed  arrested,  —  paralyzed.  We  were  in  the 
secret  places,  —  the  store-house  and  laboratory  of  matter  and  of 
time.  These  earth-masses  were  the  heart  of  a  continent  ;  its 
vital  point  when  it  began  to  form.  These  ice-veins  are  its  out- 
beats. 

We  were  lifted  and  helped  over  the  wide  moraine  ;  we  came 
to  permanent  cliffs  again ;  we  struck  the  path  along  the  Chap- 
eau,  and  came  presently  to  the  Mauvais  Pas.  A  narrow,  over 
hanging  footway,  on  a  mere  ledge-line  along  the  face  of  a 
precipice.  Iron  rails  stapled  to  the  rock  gave  us  a  hold  to  hang 
by  if  foot  or  footway  failed.  Otherwise,  a  crumbling  fragment, 
—  a  misstep,  —  would  plunge  one  down,  down,  a  distance  that 
one  dare  not  look,  among  boulders  and  ice-masses,  and  opening 
mouths  of  soundless,  deep-blue  gulfs. 

The  clouds  that  had  rolled  and  muttered  and  flashed,  on  the 
other  line  of  peaks  across  the  valley  all  day  long,  had  at  last 
hovered  over  their  edges,  dropped  upon  the  valley  in  quick 
showers,  and  were  climbing  and  thronging  now  among  the  sum 
mits  around  us. 

It  grew  dark,  and  there  came  drops  of  rain,  and  lightning 
played  across  the  shrouded  Needles,  and  about  the  heads  of  the 


THE   SEA   OF  ICE.  227 

distant  Domes.  The  Montanvert  which  we  had  quitted  was 
wrapped  already  in  a  heavy  darkness,  and  the  great  Ice-Sea  lay 
in  a  cold  shadow  of  yet  profounder  desolation. 

Beyond  the  Mauvais  Pas  we  found  our  mules  and  chairs,  and 
were  glad  to  be  seated  and  hurried  on. 

I  looked  at  Emery  Ann  to  see  how  she  bore  it.  If  we  had 
been  at  home,  we  should  have  been  timidly  shutting  windows 
and  doors,  drawing  chairs  into  the  safe  middle  of  the  room,  — 
and  saying  to  each  other  as  reassuringly  as  we  could,  that  it 
"  might  not  be  a  very  heavy  shower ;  we  should  not  get  the 
worst  of  it  here,  perhaps ;  the  blackest  cloud  was  going  round." 

She  looked  a  little  pale,  but  not  agitated. 

"  Do  you  mind  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  feel,"  she  said  calmly,  "  as  if  we  were  any  sort  of  ac 
count." 

That  was  it.  Among  these  tremendous  pinnacles,  what  were 
we,  for  a  mark  or  a  minding  ?  The  storm  had  its  own  great 
business  to  do. 

We  came  down,  upon  the  trot  and  the  run,  to  a  table-shelf 
on  which  stood  a  chalet.  We  were  hurried  off  saddles  and 
seats,  the  mules  led  under  a  shed,  the  chairs  turned  up  against 
the  rock,  and  we  were  put  into  a  door  just  as  the  drive  of  the 
wind  and  the  rush  of  the  rain  swept  down  upon  the  face  of  the 
mountain,  and  smote  it  with  an  instant  deluge. 

There  were  two  other  parties  shut  up  with  us.  The  room 
was  smoky,  and  dark  with  the  storm,  except  when  the  broad, 
red  flashes  lit  it  up  and  showed  the  streaming  landscape,  —  if 
fir-tops,  and  crag-outlines,  and  dropping,  ragged  hems  of  break 
ing  clouds,  all  mingled  as  in  one  level,  make  a  landscape,  — 
through  the  little  windows. 

The  guides  stood  out  under  the  shed  with  the  mules ;  we 
dried  and  warmed  our  feet,  and  then  turned  over  more  stereo 
scopic  pictures,  and  chose  as  well  as  we  could  in  the  partial 
light,  and  bought  a  dozen  or  two  ;  and  at  last  one  of  our  men 
came  in  and  said  the  rain  was  over,  and  we  must  hasten  our 
selves  to  reach  the  valley  before  dark. 

It  was  just  glorious  ! 

Coming  out  into  the  very  trail  of  the  tempest,  —  the  mount- 


228  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

am  all  one  rush  of  hurrying  water,  —  rocks  and  leaves  drip 
ping,  glittering  ;  torn  vapors,  caught  in  their  flight  against  the 
gnarl  of  forests  and  the  spikes  of  cliffs,  struggling  like  scatter 
ing  phantoms  to  escape,  their  riot  over  ;  a  sweet,  full  thuiuk ; 
of  pouring,  falling  streams  everywhere,  and  a  shine  of  foam 
glancing  out  from  a  hundred  little  rifts  and  plunges  all  ahout 
us ;  presently,  as  we  descended,  —  coming  upon  the  line  of 
mountain  torrents  that  laced,  and  crossed,  and  twined  and  sepa 
rated  as  they  went,  —  companied  on  either  hand  with  beautiful 
singing  rapids  and  white  cataracts,  —  never  can  one  imagine, 
except  by  just  such  doing  and  seeing,  what  an  afternoon  that 
was,  as  we  ourselves,  with  an  exulting  swiftness,  were  borne 
along  down  the  falling  zigzag  that  threaded  the  wild,  lovely  for 
est  of  the  Chapeau  ! 

Back  and  forth,  —  into  green  depths  and  then  out  to  points 
whence  we  looked  behind  and  up  against  the  vast  slope  and  tum 
ble  of  the  glacier,  —  white  and  green,  and  even  opalesque  now, 
in  the  shine  of  water  and  the  level,  golden  light  that  shot  upon 
it  from  under  western  cloud-fringes ;  seeing  away  in  upmost  dis 
tance  the  awful  grandeur  out  of  which  it  is  born  continually,  — 
the  frown  of  those  unspeakable  shafts,  —  the  tumult  of  clouds 
and  mountain  shapes  struggling  against  each  other  ;  and  all  this 
seeming  mightier,  more  wonderful,  as  it  receded,  and  we  neared 
the  valley  lying  in  its  sweet,  mellow  color  and  twilight  rest ;  it 
was  a  gift  of  glory,  —  a  showing  of  the  great  and  secret  works 
the  Father  doeth  ! 

That  was  what  I  thought  of  all  the  while  ;  what  a  day  of  tell 
ing  and  of  giving  it  had  been  ;  of  taking  up  into  the  mysteries  ; 
and  how  this  day  had  come  of  years  that  had  led  to  it ;  that  we 
had  been  brought  here  by  ways  we  hardly  knew,  for  this  to  be 
bestowed  upon  us. 

One  remembrance  quickened  another.  I  thought  how  the 
Word  was  in  all  the  world,  and  that  the  Word  is  the  Lord 
bending  Himself  down  to  men ;  that  the  Father  loveth  the  Son 
of  his  humanity,  and  showeth  Him  all  things  that  Himself  doeth  ; 
how  the  Spirit  takes  of  them  continually  and  shows  them  unto 
us  ;  and  how  greater  things  than  any  yet  He  will  show  us,  be 
cause  it  pleaseth  Him  to  give  us  all  the  Kingdom ! 


THE   SEA   OF   ICE.  229 

How  that  in  this  word,  —  this  Christ-presence  of  God's  mean 
ing,  —  all  our  life  is  hid  ;  that  all  is  ours,  and  we  are  his,  and  He 
is  God's ;  that  we  are  sons  and  daughters,  and  know  not  what  we 
shall  be,  — heirs  of  the  unknown  ;  but  that  as  He  shall  appear 
we  shall  become  like  Him,  seeing  Him  as  He  is ;  and  seeing  in 
Him  our  own  life,  which  is  of  his,  manifested  in  his  glory. 

I  was  never  so  deeply  joyful.  Great  things  and  little,  —  the 
gleam  of  the  glacier,  and  the  rush  of  water,  and  the  twitter  of 
birds,  and  the  forest  odors,  as  we  came  down  into  these  small 
blessednesses  out  of  silences  and  majesties,  —  the  pleasant 
motion,  carried  by  that  kindly,  careful  strength,  —  all  made  me 
so  happy  with  a  feeling  of  how  endless  the  hope  and  possibility 
are  of  the  things  that  we  shall  surely  come  to  ;  since  they  are 
made,  and  made  for  the  children ! 

One  can  wait  again,  for  a  life-time,  after  one  such  day. 


230  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DAILY  BREAD:  AND  DOUBLES. 


....  THE  next  morning  threatened  rain ;  but  we  were 
longing  for  the  mountains  again ;  we  were  rested  by  a  deep, 
long  sleep ;  we  sent  for  our  head  guide  and  asked  him  what 
could  be  done. 

"  It  may  make  good  weather  by  and  by,"  he  said.  "  Madame 
would  like,  perhaps,  to  mount  the  Fle"gere  ?  " 

We  would  all  like  that ;  indeed,  nothing  short  of  a  settled 
pour  would  dissuade  us.  We  were  quite  resolved  it  should  be 
clear  ;  or  if  not  quite  clear,  that  it  should  be  still  more  beauti 
ful  to  see  the  fogs  and  clouds  as  they  rolled  away.  We  would 
rather  watch  it  coming  clear,  than  have  it  so  at  the  outset. 

Also,  it  was  Saturday ;  and  by  Tuesday,  at  farthest,  we 
meant  to  make  our  journey  over  the  Tete  Noire  to  Martigny. 
We  must  allow  for  rest,  and  for  possible  worse  weather. 

A  lovely  sky  of  shifting  white  and  breaking  blue,  at  half- 
past  nine,  decided  us.  Chairs  and  mules  were  brought  to  the 
door  again  ;  Emery  Ann's  face  was  quietly  ecstatic  as  she  settled 
herself  in  the  thing  that  night  before  last  she  could  not  imagine 
herself  being  "  lugged  along  in." 

"  You  like  it  pretty  well,  after  all,  don't  you,  Emery  Ann  ?  " 
said  I. 

"  I  'm  reconciled"  she  answered  ;  "  it  appears  to  correspond  ; 
and  corresponding  is  the  main  thing." 

A  child's  blissfulness  spread  over  her  face  as  the  porters 
lifted  her  up.  I  really  think  her  smile  had  a  gentle  lip-smack 
with  it. 

The  level  road  through  the  meadowed  valley, — the  river 
stealing  quietly  alongside,  —  the  lines  of  mountain-wall  stretch- 


DAILY   BREAD  :    AND   DOUBLES.  231 

ing  on  either  hand,  their  tops  lost  in  the  tumbling  foam  of  clouds, 

—  all  gave  us  a  pure,  simple  delight  of  just  being  and  moving 
in  it,  whether  we  should  see  Mont  Blanc  from  the  Flegere  or 
not. 

We  turned  off  the  road  at  the  spreading  base  of  the  mountain. 
The  path  began  among  loose  boulders  and  sloping  ledges  that 
stretched  back  a  good  way  in  a  rugged  bareness  that  was  neither 
cliff  nor  pasture, —  only  a  great  beginning  ;  —  a  heaped-up  ped 
estal  from  which  the  real  height  sprang,  sweeping  it  with  its 
forest-skirts. 

We  plunged  suddenly  into  the  woods,  and  the  path  which 
had  wandered  irregularly  upward  among  the  curves  and  breaks 
of  the  foundation-hill,  took  its  sharp  zigzags  which  "  meant 
business." 

It  was  the  delight  of  the  day  before  upon  the  Montanvert, 
repeated.  Repeated  in  words,  it  could  not  be  what  it  was  to 
live  it  over  again. 

The  sweet,  wet,  stillness,  —  the  wildness,  —  the  trickle  of 
water-threads,  —  the  shine  and  flash  of  little  falls,  —  the  lovely 
ferns  and  mosses,  and  the  Alpine  blossoms  smiling  out,  —  the 
smell  of  the  mountain,  rich  with  strength  of  herb  and  mineral, 

—  the  sense  of  attaining  at  every  step  as  we  climbed,  —  the  out 
looks  and  uplooks,  as   the  white  drifts  rolled   and  lifted  along 
the  opposite  chain,  or  the  towering  Aiguilles  of  our  own  side 
bent  their  awful  faces  suddenly  over  us  between  torn  vapors  ; 

—  it  was  the  same  wonderful,  ever  fresh  rapture,  which  cannot 
be  put  into  freshness  of  speech  and  writing,  because  you  have 
only  the  same  words  over  again,  and  there  is  no  dictionary  for 
the  added  meanings  of  recurrence.     It  was  only  another  of  the 
days  of  Switzerland ;  which  are  like  no  other  days  that  you  can 
spend  on  earth. 

We  left  off  saying  anything  about  it  to  each  other.  Edith 
and  Margaret  jogged  along  upon  their  mules,  and  Emery  Ann 
and  I  swung  blessedly  in  our  chairs,  and  there  was  no  sound 
among  us  for  ever  so  long  but  the  hard,  full  breath  of  the  por- 
iers,  as  regular  and  strong  as  their  stride,  and  the  fall  of  their 
feet  in  its  sure  rhythm  which  took  from  us  all  misgiving  for 
them,  and  the  crunch  of  the  gravelly  soil  or  the  rattle  and  roll 
of  dislodged  pebbles  under  hoof  and  heel. 


232  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

Half  way  up,  we  stopped  as  usual  at  a  little  chalet,  where 
the  men  had  beer,  and  we  ate  fresh  raspberries  and  drank  new 
milk.  A  woman,  with  a  little  boy,  keeps  this  lonely  hut  through 
the  summer  time,  taking  daily  custom  of  travelers.  The  boy 
had  hurt  himself  by  a  fall  among  the  rocks,  and  lay  upon  a  bed 
in  a  little  inner  room.  I  think  his  leg  had  been  broken.  Of 
course  we  gave  him  a  special  douceur.  I  hope  it  was  not  what 
he  was  there  for. 

An  hour  or  more  of  further  climbing,  every  second  of  which 
was  a  live  pleasure  as  we  went,  but  which  cannot  be  put  down 
in  three  hundred  and  sixtieths,  alas!  for  you,  — brought  us  up 
and  out  upon  an  open  crown  on  which  stands  the  miserable 
little  barn-like  inn,  and  over  which  sweep  the  unchecked  winds. 

It  was  fearfully  cold  up  here.  The  mists  were  rushing  about 
like  things  that  had  pre-emptive  right  there,  and  upon  whose 
business  we  had  come  untimely,  before  they  had  got  cleared  up 
for.  the  day  ;  so  that  we  could  expect  neither  way  nor  favor. 
We  were  in  the  weather-office,  where  the  kind  of  day  it  was  to 
be  was  made  ;  and  it  was  not  settled  yet.  So  we  must  submit 
to  be  hustled  and  chilled,  and  have  the  ends  of  clouds  slapped 
against  us,  and  take  shelter  in  the  "  Cross  of  the  Flegere,"  and 
be  glad  of  a  little  warming  at  its  kitchen  fire,  between  our  eager 
sallies  to  see  how  it  was  going  to  turn  out. 

The  noon  came  clear.  That  is,  as  one  calls  clear,  when  not 
watching  for  mountain  outlines  and  snow-peaks  fifteen  thousand 
feet  high.  We  stood  in  the  sunshine  and  saw  over  against  us 
the  gray-white  ice-rivers  pouring  down  the  sides  of  the  mighty 
range  whose  crests  were  hidden,  but  above  whose  veil  of  shift 
ing,  tantalizing  clouds  that  showed  now  here,  now  there,  a  dazzle 
of  huge  proportions,  shot  the  rending  Needles,  to  me  a  continual 
startle  of  sublimity,  and  more  grand  than  any  other  Alpine 
form. 

We  tracked  the  way  we  had  gone  yesterday  over  opposite 
upon  the  Montanvert,  and  across  the  Sea  of  Ice,  and  down  the 
dark  Chapeau :  we  turned  and  found  ourselves  beneath  the 
Aiguilles  Rogues. 

The  broken  heaps  and  drifts  and  whirls  of  vapor,  mingling 
with  outbursting  visions  of  snow-masses  and  splintering  rocks 


DAILY  BREAD:   AND  DOUBLES.  233 

and  sky-piercing  shafts,  were  possibly  more  superb  to  see,  in  the 
tumult  of  indefinite  revelation,  than  any  widest  outline  sharp-set 
against  blue  space.  We  could  conceive  such  outline  from  our 
maps  and  panoramas  ;  there  was  a  limit  to  it,  however  glorious; 
there  was  no  limit  to  this  splendid  chaos  of  snow  and  crag  and 
cloud  and  struggling  sun-shafts  under  the  narrowed  heaven. 

We  remained  nearly  two  hours  at  the  top ;  then  consoled 
ourselves  with  thinking  that  if  we  had  had  the  other  view  we 
could  not  have  had  this ;  and  taking  it  thankfully  as  our  por 
tion,  we  assented  to  the  guide's  proposal  to  go  down. 

Edith  and  Margaret  got  into  great  glee  as  their  mules'  paces 
quickened  in  the  descent ;  then  they  dismounted  and  took  a  real 
run,  —  springing  lightly  along  the  rough  pathway,  over  stock 
and  stone,  and  turning  the  sharp  angles  as  swallows  wheel  upon 
their  wings. 

They  laughed,  and  called  merrily  to  each  other ;  the  guides 
grew  merry  too,  and,  holding  the  bridles  of  the  discarded  beasts, 
trotted  first,  and  then  fairly  scampered,  down  the  zigzags ;  our 
porters  caught  the  feeling  of  the  fun,  and  trotted  too. 

"  It 's  '  this  way  the  water  comes  down,'  is  n't  it,  auntie  ? " 
shouted  Edith,  up  across  the  parallels  between  us.  "  Don't  you 
feel  just  like  a  little  brook,  Emery  Ann  ?  " 

Emery  Ann  clung  spasmodically  to  the  arms  of  her  chair  and 
braced  her  feet  against  the  swaying  foot-board.  She  looked  in 
a  rigidity  of  half-remonstrative  delight.  Her  eyes  were  set  in  a 
twinkle,  and  her  mouth  had  stiffened  in  a  smile.  She  tried  to 
answer,  and  the  words  did  come  brook-fashion,  as  if  tumbled 
along  over  the  stones. 

"  I  don't  —  know  —  but  what  —  I  do  !  But  I  don't  —  believe 
—  I  've  any  business  —  to  !  " 

"  '  We  chatter,  chatter,  as  we  go, '  "  sang  Edith,  poising  her 
self  at  a  new  turn  of  the  path.  "  That 's  very  good  chatter, 
Emery  Aim !  Clattering,  chattering,  shattering,  pattering,  — 
men,  women,  and  mules,  and  the  girls  on  before  —  and  this  way 
the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore  !  " 

She  sprang  on  again,  dancing  down  the  rapid  decline.  Mar 
garet  was  before  her ;  their  veils  and  garments  fluttered  as  they 
went,  crossing  each  other  to  and  fro  along  the  successive  bends ; 


234  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

they  looked  so  gay  and  tiny,  like  mere  butterflies,  under  the 
great  frown,  —  or  tender  might,  which  was  it?  of  the  mountain  ; 
under  the  far-up,  dreadful  outburst  from  the  deep  heaven  of  the 
horned  heads  of  the  pinnacles  of  Charlanoz  ! 

We  sobered  down,  as  the  brooks  do,  coming  upon  the  rough 
extense  of  the  slower  slope ;  and  wound  about  the  broken  face 
of  it  between  its  mounds  and  boulders. 

As  we  struck  the  valley  level,  we  looked  up  and  saw  the  sky 
almost  cloudless ;  when  we  reached  our  hotel,  Mont  Blanc 
shone  pure  and  solemn,  with  mistless  snows,  right  overhead. 

We  had  gone  far  away  to  see  his  face ;  we  came  back,  and 
found  it  leaning  over  us. 

They  had  made  room  for  us  at  the  hotel,  as  they  had  prom 
ised,  while  we  were  gone ;  and  the  porters  had  brought  down 
our  light  luggage  from  the  "  de'pendance."  We  had  left  our 
big  trunks  joyously  at  Geneva,  with  the  bankers ;  when  we 
reached  Vernayaz,  —  but  that  is  farther  on.  I  won't  even  an 
ticipate  by  the  mention  of  a  shawl-strap. 

They  gave  us  rooms  on  the  Mont  Blanc  side,  with  a  little 
balustrade  along  the  windows.  All  three  opened  one  from 
another.  We  got  out  brushes  and  sponges,  and  made  ourselves 
comfortable,  and  waited  eagerly  for  six  o'clock. 

The  Julienne  soup,  with  Parmesan  cheese, —  the  mutton, — 
the  Brussels  sprouts, — the  vol-au-vent,  —  the  "epinards,"  or 
tine-chopped  spinach  made  delicate  with  butter,  cream,  and 
beaten  egg,  —  the  wine  of  Asti,  —  were  delicious  to  our  hunger, 
but  an  incongruity  of  luxury,  —  a  shock  of  translation  back  to 
the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  after  the  glory  of  the  desert.  The  chat 
ter  of  tourists,  in  French,  German,  and  English,  up  and  down 
the  crowded  table  d'hote,  was  strange  after  the  silences  and 
whispers  of  the  mountain  sides,  the  fir  woods,  the  falling 
streams,  and  the  sweeping  winds. 

But  no  stranger,  I  remembered,  —  no  more  incongruous,  — 
than  the  chatter  we  come  back  into,  —  the  common  words  and 
common  thoughts  again,  —  out  of  silences  and  whispers  and  vis- 
sions  that  lie  and  breathe  and  open  around  us  in  the  places  where 
we  get  away,  "led  of  the  spirit  into  the  wilderness;"  returning 
into  our  bodily  recognitions,  and  thinking  perhaps  it  is  we  only 
who  have  been  out  and  up,  because  others  have  come  back  also. 


DAILY  BREAD  :  AND  DOUBLES.          235 

Every  one  of  these  people,  most  likely,  had  been  forth  as  we 
had,  among  the  glories ;  and  every  one,  as  we,  had  come  back 
to  eat  their  dinner. 

We  rested  the  seventh  day,  and  found  it  holy. 

Emery  Ann  and  Edith  turned  their  beds  around  so  that  they 
could  lie  against  the  pillows  and  look  out  over  the  court-yard 
and  low  garden  of  the  hotel,  to  the  deep-forested  hills  that  rose 
behind  and  over  them  to  the  great  White  Presence  that  filled 
absolutely  all  higher  space  they  might  have  seen.  The  very 
radiance  of  the  day  seemed  not  reflected,  but  flowing  forth  from 
itself.  Mont  Blanc  is  not  splendid ;  it  is  absolute  splendor. 

My  room  was  the  last  of  the  suite,  and  the  door  opening  to 
Edith's  was  in  the  window  angle.  The  fire-place  was  next,  the 
chimney  serving  both  rooms.  I  could  not  well  arrange  a  posi 
tion  like  theirs  ;  but  I  was  very  tired,  and  lay  quietly  upon  my 
bed  in  the  dark  corner,  thinking  toward  Mont  Blanc.  . 

Margaret  came  in  and  found  me. 

"  We  must  have  a  better  place  for  you,  ma  mere." 

She  has  taken  a  fancy  to  call  me  as  the  nuns  call  their 
mother  superior.  "  There  are  spiritual  motherhoods,"  she  said 
to  me,  when  she  so  christ-ened  me ;  "  and  in  that,  as  in  ever  so 
many  other  things,  the  Catholics  have  put  a  practice  upon  a  fact. 
And  the  spiritual  mothers  are  quite  as  apt,  in  the  world  as  in 
convents,  to  be  set  apart  for  their  vocation,  —  not  mothers  after 
the  flesh.  There,  too,  the  Romans  have  a  reality  in  their  sys 
tem.  I  think  if  we  could  dig  out  the  truth  under  all  their  over- 
layings,  we  would  find,  maybe,  the  foundations  that  the  angel 
measured  with  the  golden  reed." 

The  child  has  insight.  There  is  spiritual  motherhood.  And 
the  mysteries  of  the  Church  were  first  the  mysteries  of  the  King 
dom.  So,  though  the  motherness  comes  down  through  mo 
rather  than  of  me,  it  makes  me  happy  that  she  should  call  me 
"  ma  mere."  And  because  we  two  are  put  together,  and  both 
our  mothers  are  within  there,  in  the  Golden  City,  I  can  believe 
that  behind  her  impulse  is  an  instinct  that  reaches  farther  than 
she  sees,  and  that  through  my  daughterhood  she  finds  an  open 
channel  to  and  from  the  love  she  wants,  and  that  seeks  toward 


236  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

her.  I  take  the  word  then,  but  I  do  not  stop  it;  and  I  told 
her  so. 

"  I  must  fix  you  up  as  we  used  to  do  at  school." 

She  drew  a  chair  to  the  window,  tipped  it  with  its  back  to  the 
floor  and  its  legs  in  the  air,  making  a  long  incline ;  upon  this 
she  placed  a  pillow,  lengthwise,  and  below  spread  folded  shawls. 
Then  she  took  my  little  air-cushion,  half  filled  it,  and  laid  it  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  improvised  lounge. 

"  We  did  n't  have  these  things,"  she  said  as  she  did  so ; 
"  that  would  have  been  too  complete.  Now,  let  me  put  you 
down  here,  and  you  '11  say  it 's  next  best  to  the  chaise  a  por- 
teurs." 

Indeed  it  was ;  and  if  ever  you  are  thoroughly  tired  out 
and  common  chairs  don't  comfort  you,  I  advise  you  to  try  this. 

Only  you  cannot  try  it  as  I  did,  down  under  that  low  window 
through  which  I  looked  up  into  the  heart  and  face  of  that  high 
Purity,  —  that  awful,  blessed,  spotless  shining  ! 

Hotel  Couttet  is  snuggled  down  in  a  little  nook,  —  something 
like  that  river-hollow  at  Hilslowe  Mills,  where  the  railway  runs 
in,  and  we  go  down  under  the  bridge  to  take  the  cars.  Only 
you  must  fancy,  rising  up  above  Keber's  Woods,  a  great  wall  of 
higher  forest  that  stands  straight  against  the  east  and  north,  and 
keeps  the  sunrise  behind  it  until  seven  o'clock  of  the  longest 
summer  morning ;  and  above  that  again — not  rising,  as  that 
does,  but  heaven-hung  and  reaching  down,  —  the  snow-blaze  of 
the  White  Mountain. 

I  turned  my  face  upward  toward  it,  with  I  could  not  tell  what 
feeling  at  my  heart;  whether  of  worship  lifted,  or  the  gracious 
down-flowing  upon  me  of  that  from  which  worship  is  born.  In 
the  real  mystery  between  God  and  his  souls,  must  not  the  two 
meet  and  be  the  same  ? 

Margaret  drew  my  knit  shawl  round  me,  and  disposed  my 
skirts  in  lines  of  order  without  which  I  cannot  ever  wholly  rest, 
and  brought  over  a  portmanteau  for  a  seat  for  herself,  and  put 
herself  beside  me. 

"  You  look  very  nice,  ma  mere,"  she  said,  softly,  and  smoothed 
her  fingers  across  my  hair  with  a  light,  tender  touch.  She 
knew  I  did  not  keep  that,  either,  all  to  myself. 


DAILY  BREAD:    AND   DOUBLES.  237 

"  You  have  made  me  blessedly  comfortable,"  I  answered,  turn 
ing  my  face  and  my  thought  toward  her.  And  presently  I  said, 
"  I  do  not  think  you  are  '  cold,'  Margaret." 

She  understood. 

"  Not  where  I  am  warm,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  I  find  you  not  brusque,  but  very  gentle.  Why  does  not 
every  one  ?" 

"  One  can  be  gentle  where  one  is  '  easily  entreated ;'"  she 
said,  with  another  of  those  allusions  that  often  betray  how  fa 
miliarly  she  knows  the  Scripture  phrases.  "  I  don't  like  to  be 
smooth" 

"  Would  it  be  bad  to  be  ?  Just  not  —  what  is  it  ?  I  can't 
say  rough,  —  but  wn-smooth.  Toward  your  mamma,  for  in 
stance  ?  Just  not  recusant  of  affectionateness,  —  such  as  you 
show  me  already." 

"  People  have  told  me  to  be  smooth  with  her,"  said  Margaret. 
"  They  put  it  into  my  head  when  I  was  a  little  child.  And  that 
was  how  I  learned  not  to  be.  I  am  not  rude,  or  unkind, 
though  ;  that  would  not  be  any  truer  than  the  other." 

"  No,  indeed.  It  is  not  less  of  anything,  but  more,  that  you 
might  be." 

"  I  could  n't.  I  can't  bear  things  on  purpose.  Mamma  was 
always  smooth  with  my  father ;  and  it  was  not  always  easy  to 
be.  She  said  things  turned  out  more  comfortably  for  a  little 
patience  ;  and  so  they  do,"  —  she  added,  applying  her  accidental 
word  with  a  smile ;  "  but  I  can't  be  smooth  to  be  comfortable." 

"  You  can  better  be  rough  to  be  comfortable  ?  " 

A  flash  of  some  unlooked-for  understanding  came  into  her 
face.  It  grew  very  earnest,  —  very  honest :  I  could  see  that 
she  impaneled  a  jury  of  her  own  clear,  strong  perceptivities, 
and  swore  them  in  instantly,  to  render  verdict. 

"  Do  you  think  that  is  it  ?  "  said  she.  "  I  never  suspected 
myself  of  being  that." 

"  There  are  different  kinds  of  comfortableness,"  I  said. 
"  Certainly,  some  are  more,  and  some  less,  worthy.  But  that 
one  may  be  comfortable  in  one's  —  self-respect"  — 

"  Say  '  pride,'  "  Margaret  put  in,  with  the  tone  of  one  simply 
suggesting  an  exacter  term  of  language. 


238  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

"  Ought  one,"  I  continued,  smiling,  while  her  face  was  quite 
unmoved,  and  her  eyes  rested  on  the  far  mountain  whiteness,  — • 
"  ought  one  to  infringe  or  refuse  the  comfortableness  of  an 
other  ?  Or  to  be  quite  true,"  —  I  put  it  differently,  — "  should 
one  hold  back  the  truth  of  kindness  for  fear  of  seeming  — 
seeming  ?  " 

"  You  cut  straight  down,  with  a  sharp  edge,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Yes.  There  is  a  word  which  is  quick,  to  the  dividing  be 
tween  joint  and  marrow,"  I  answered.  "  But  not  my  word.** 

"  I  see.  The  truth  may  lie  even  finer  than  that.  People 
laugh  at  splitting  hairs,  but  absolute  honesty  may  be  between 
the  outside  and  the  in  of  a  thing  all  but  invisible.  Yet  I  don't 
think  we  can  analyze  like  that  as  we  go  along." 

"  We  could  n't  lay  out  the  path  by  arbitrary  measurement. 
But  there  are  movements  whose  impulse  is  such  absolute  truth, 
that  men  can  only  follow  them  by  an  exactness  which  considers 
the  thousandth  of  a  hair's  breadth.  And  it  must  be  that  we 
are  meant  to  be  led  and  moved  as  surely.  But  for  that  we  must 
forget  all  about  seemings." 

"  Only  you  want  people  to  see  the  truth  in  you.  And  if  you 
only  give  them  the  truth  of  the  kindness,  they  won't  see  —  the 
truth  of  the  truth." 

"  I  think  we  have  to  leave  it  so.  We  are  not  to  disfigure  our 
faces,  —  our  outward  expression  of  ourselves,  —  that  men  may 
know  what  we  fast  from  ;  it  is  enough  that  the  Father  is  in  the 
secret  with  us,  and  will  take  care  of  what  comes  into  open 
ness." 

"  And  that,"  said  Margaret,  keenly,  "  may  be  the  disfigure 
ment.  We  must  let  it,  if  it  must.  We  are  to  put  on  neither 
smoothness  nor  roughness ;  but  of  the  two,  I  like  Esau  better 
than  Jacob,  if  he  did  lose  his  birthright.  It  comes  back  to  what 
Mr.  Truesdaile  said,  —  to  be  '  certain  true,  all  through,'  (do  you 
know  I  have  just  boiled  it  down  to  those  four  words  for  a  prov 
erb  ?)  and  let  the  sum  prove  itself.  Now,  I  want  to  tell  you 
what  I  've  been  making  you  '  blessedly  comfortable  '  for." 

She  took  from  her  pocket  two  letters.  The  mail  from  Geneva 
last  evening,  had  brought  us  American  letters  from  our  bankers 
there,  which  we  had  expected  before  we  left. 


DAILY  BREAD:  AND  DOUBLES.       239 

"  There  is  a  little  piece  in  this,"  —  showing  me  one  directed 
to  herself,  and  covered  with  the  postmarks  of  its  long  transit, 

—  "and  another  in   this," — holding   up  an   envelope   freshly 
written  with  her  own  hand,  —  "  that  I  want  you  to  look  at." 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  I,  as  she  began  unfolding.  "  To  be 
'  certain  true,  all  through,'  I  must  tell  you  something  first.  I  've 
a  double,  Margaret." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  And  your  double  has  a 
double.  And  away  back,  nobody  knows  where,  they  double 
into  what  everything  comes  from.  It  depends  upon  where  you 
begin.  I  don't  think  I'm  afraid  of  your  doubles.  At  any  rate, 
I  'm  glad  enough  of  what  gets  down  to  me  by  their  road." 

u  What  a  child  you  are  !     That  is  trusting  !  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  expect  anything  actually  to  stop,  you  know. 
Money  in  a  bank  does  n't  do  that.  If  it  did,  you  might  as  well 
keep  it  in  your  own  napkin.  What  you  want  is  your  interest. 
And  that  comes  by  their  getting  theirs.  I  'm  not  afraid  of  being 
squandered" 

Did  you  ever  know  such  a  creature,  —  of  nineteen  years  old, 

—  Rose  ?  " 

"  And  so  see  what  Harry  writes.  I  want  you  to  know  him 
a  little  better.  I  have  told  him  ever  so  much  of  you.  This  is 
in  answer  to  a  long  letter  I  sent  from  Paris.  It  was  mostly 
written,  though,  at  Hastings  and  Dover.  That  —  and  that." 

She  gave  me  two  pages  out  of  the  middle,  and  I  read  some 
thing  like  this  :  — 

"  That  was  a  ride  from  London  to  Tunbridge  !  You  made  me 
feel  as  if  I  had  had  it  with  you.  I've  nothing  half  so  good  to 
share  with  you  from  this  side.  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  always  have 
to  give  more  than  you  get,  Madge,  with  me.  And  that  brings 
me  to  the  '  daily  bread  '  business.  I  'm  glad  you  find  it,  if  I  am 
only  a  dog  under  the  table.  You  need  n't  think  I  despise  it, 
though  I  can't  break  it  for  myself.  I'm  quite  contented  to  take 
the  crumbs  from  you,  if  you  '11  be  at  the  trouble  of  '  crumbing 
up'  for  me.  Is  n't  that  what  Solomon  says  a  woman  is  for, — 
,n  the  Birthday  Chapter,  you  know  ?  '  She  giveth  bread  to  her 
household  ?  '  Or  meat,  —  which  is  it  ?  It  is  all  the  same. 

"  You  see  I  shall  have  to  look  to  you,  —  if  you  '11  let  me.     If 


240  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

you  would  only  say  whether  you  will  or  not,  —  or  whether  you 
will  ever  say  you  will !  For  I  believe  it 's  a  promise  'of  a 
promise  I  have  got  to  get  first. 

"  Flo'  fell  in  love  at  Saratoga.  But  it  was  with  a  girl. 
Everybody  else  did ;  she  was  a  little  stunner !  I  don't  think 
I  fell  far ;  one  can't,  when  all  the  world  tumbles  in  one  heap. 
It  is  n't  my  style,  exactly,  to  '  tumble  after.'  That  is  what  the 
Gills  do.  If  I  can't  be  Jack,  —  even  with  a  broken  head,  —  I 
don't  care  to  be  anybody.  I  believe  it  is  n't  much  use  with  me, 
either,  unless  I  can  grow  up  with  a  girl,  and  take  it  quietly  all 
along.  It  is  like  the  crumbs.  I  have  to  be  provided  for.  And 
I  can't  expect  to  grow  up  with  many  more  ! 

"  You  must  take  it  in  nonsense,  Madge  ;  I  shall  never  put  it 
into  sermons.  If  I  do  any  growing,  it  will  have  to  be  along 
with  you,  as  it  began. 

"  I  'm  glad,  though,  you  enjoy  the  coach-riding,  and  the  four- 
in-hand,  and  all  the  pleasant,  every-day  part,  too.  For  if  ever 
we  are  —  engaged,  and  the  rest  of  it,  —  I  shan't  want  you  to 
have  got  beyond  all  that.  Six  days  and  a  Sunday,  you  know, 
was  the  proportion  it  was  put  up  in." 

There  was  more  of  the  same  sort ;  bright,  affectionate  non 
sense,  in  which  appeared  a  quickness  of  apprehension  that 
might  take  hold  of  whatsoever  it  would,  and  climb ;  but  that 
was  best  content  on  an  easy,  happy  level.  I  discerned  in  it 
what  I  think  Margaret  did  not,  though  he  told  it  out,  as  the 
riddle  does,  in  so  many  words.  That  things  must  be  made 
ready  for  him.  Even  love.  He  could  not  trouble  himself  with 
a  con  tested  desire,  — with  trying  for  a  difficult  happiness;  he  did 
not  find  it  "  his  style "  to  fall  in  love  with  a  crowd.  And  the 
very  bread  of  life,  —  she  must  "crumb  it  up  "  for  him  ! 

I  find  Margaret  herself  so  high,  so  rare,  that  I  have  not  tol 
erance  for  this  nice,  jolly  every-dayness  in  one  who  pretends  to 
do  his  growing  "  along  with  her !  " 

If  that  "  little  stunner  "  should  anyhow  drop  into  a  quieter 
track,  out  of  a  crowd,  beside  his  own,  I  wonder  what  might  come 
of  it.  I  think  he  has  plenty  of  time  and  space,  yet,  to  grow  up 
with  another  ;  or  indeed,  with  several  more  ! 

I  passed  directly  to  her  own  letter  which  she  laid  open  at 
these  paragraphs :  — 


DAILY   BREAD  :    AND   DOUBLES.  241 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  give  you  the  best  of  what  I  come  to, 
Harry.  Those  lovely  days  in  England  were  too  much  to  keep 
to  one's  self,  and  I  am  glad  I  gave  you  the  very  best  of  them. 
I  know  it  is  '  six  days  and  a  Sunday '  in  this  living  of  ours  ;  but 
I  think  the  Sunday  spreads  !  I  am  sure  there  are  more  things 
even  in  the  six  days,  than  we  made  of  them  in  our  childhood, 
when  they  were  only  play-days.  I  suppose  we  shall  both  feel 
that  the  more  as  we  go  on.  And  if  either  of  us  finds  friends 
or  help  higher  than  ourselves,  to  understand  them  by,  we  — 
being  friends  —  shall  share  them  with  each  other,  shall  we 
not? 

"  Please  don't  talk  about  a  '  promise  of  a  promise.'  I  do  not 
think  there  can  be  such  a  thing,  exactly.  It  must  be  a  proving 
and  a  waiting.  We  must  see  how  we  are  growing,  before  we 
know  how  far  we  can  grow  together.  And  there  must  be  a 
united  growth  that  is  a  sum  of  something,  mustn't  there,  before 
you  can  call  it  a  new  planting  in  the  world  ?  Growing  is  n't 
waiting  for  the  sunshine,  Harry.  It  is  a  real  reaching  after  it. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  your  man's  place  in  life,  just  as  I  want  to 
feel  myself  ready  for  a  woman's.  Then  we  shall  find  out  if  they 
depend  upon  each  other.  But  we  cannot  promise  now  to  prom 
ise  then. 

"  I  write  plainly,  exactly  as  far  as  I  do  see ;  that  is  right,  I 
think,  because  we  are  friends.  It  does  not  need  a  promise  to 
be  that ;  we  always  have  been.  Perhaps  we  are  '  best  friends,' 
now ;  the  best  we  know  how  to  be ;  but  how  much  more  we 
might  know  how  to  be  ! 

"  I  don't  think,  Harry,  that  my  '  crumbing '  would  —  or  should 
—  be  enough  for  you.  I  should  like,  so  dearly,  to  receive  at 
your  hands. 

"  And  yet,  it  begins  to  seem  to  me,  it  may  not  be  so  much 
what  people  are  to  each  other,  —  I  mean  in  this  looking  to  each 
other  for  the  sharing,  —  as  what  they  look  to  together.  I  could 
not  give  you  anything  of  what  this  great  white  mountain  gives 
to  me,  unless,  either  actually  or  by  some  picture  I  could  make, 
you  stood  before  its  presence  beside  me.  To  look  up  to  great 
things,  and  to  feel  a  friend  you  care  for  looking  with  you,  —  that 
is  the  real  sympathy.  It  is  what  we  have  at  the  Communion, 
16 


242  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

when  we  say,  — '  Therefore  with  angels  and  archangels ; '  though 
we  ourselves  are  so  far  below." 

She  will  either  bring  him,  or  leave  him.  But  that  she  does 
not  know,  and  nobody  can  say  it  to  her.  For  her  there  is  only 
the  single,  "  certain  true  "  step  at  a  time.  And  this  letter  was 
one  such.  I  told  her  so  as  I  gave  it  back. 

"  Then  it  is  right  I  should  go  on  ?  For  even  this  waiting  is 
going  on,  you  see.  I  have  taken,  somehow,  his  chances  into  my 
hands.  I  cannot  fling  them  down,  and  not  care.  I  must  do 
the  next  right  thing  by  him  as  it  comes.  I  'just  must  follow 
my  signboard.' " 

That  is  a  saying  of  Emery  Ann's. 

"  Follow,  Margaret,"  I  answered ;  "  but  do  not  run  beyond. 
One  passes  the  right  turn,  sometimes,  that  way." 

I  think,  Rose,  that  there  is  now  and  then  a  romance  of  boy 
and  girl  love  which  runs  on  into  manhood  and  womanhood,  and 
fulfills  itself.  But  I  do  not  believe  in  these  romances,  as  a  gen 
eral  thing.  There  comes  a  time  when  the  girl  is  suddenly  so 
much  more  than  the  boy,  —  when  she  has  got  so  much  farther. 
And  once  waiting  for  him  to  catch  up,  —  ah  !  that  may  be  an 
angel's  ministry,  but  it  is  not  a  woman's  blessedness !  The 
world  has  got  woefully  twisted  on  its  moral  axis,  and  things  may 
have  come  to  be  right  and  needful  that  were  not  before  the 
flood  ;  the  sin-flood,  I  mean,  —  not  the  water-flood  ;  it  is  of  such 
little  consequence  that  that  had  to  follow,  and  so  did.  Adam 
was  first  formed,  then  Eve  ;  that  was  the  holy  order.  Now  a 
woman,  —  Mother  Goose  has  it,  as  she  has  most  things,  —  goes 
and  takes  "  a  little  husband  no  bigger  than  her  thumb."  She 
finds  him  a  pint  pot,  and  she  bids  him  drum.  She  ties  his  hose, 
and  —  well !  do  you  think  that  woman  is  content  ?  Do  you 
think  her  "  soul  goes  marching  on  "  to  that  drumming  ? 

Yet  I  did  not  dare  tell  Margaret  that  this  was  not  her  work, 
just  because  I  might  imagine  for  her  a  happiness  to  take  in 
stead.  The  invincible  truth  itself  must  show  her  the  whether  or 
no. 

There  are  natures  made  to  tread  the  winepress  alone  ;  to  take 
no  blessed  cup  from  other  human  hand. 


DAILY  BREAD  :  AND  DOUBLES.          24& 

She  herself  may  have  to  grow  by  giving ;  and  only  in  that 
unseen  communion  of  the  saints  find  her  full  fellowship. 

She  says  truly  that  she  has  put  him  to  a  kind  of  probation ; 
and  now  she  must  wait ;  at  least  long  enough  to  see  how  he 
will  receive  it.  That,  of  itself,  is  a  binding,  —  a  promise. 
Every  act  of  living  is.  It  is  a  pledge  to  the  next ;  we  cannot 
help  it. 

And  meanwhile,  for  herself?     .... 

I  feel  as  if  the  waking  to  her  full  womanly  instinct  were  to 
come.  The  motherly  springs  first  in  us,  strange  as  that  may 
be ;  the  child  has  it  with  her  dolls.  Margaret  Regis  has  a 
mother-love  for  this  boy  Harry.  It  has  turned  into  that ;  she 
does  not  know  it ;  she  cannot  give  him  up ;  she  is  keeping 
faith  bravely,  waiting  for  the  other.  She  is  looking  back, — 
listening  for  the  morning  breeze  that  blew  out  of  the  east ;  but 
what  of  the  rushing,  mighty  wind  that  may  sweep  up  out  of  the 
south  upon  her  ?  .  .  .  . 

Rose !  I  am  getting  to  be  a  part  of  this,  myself.  If  in  any 
thing  you  see  it  clearer  than  I  do,  tell  me. 

There  was  more,  afterward,  which  happened  to  keep  these 
thoughts  tossing  restlessly  in  my  mind. 

But  I  will  write  further  a  few  days  hence. 


244  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
FROM  ARVE  TO  RHONE. 


....  THERE  was  nothing  but  the  mountains  between  earth 
level  and  farthest  heaven  the  morning  we  left  Chamounix. 

Not  the  least  fleck  or  tatter  of  mist  was  afloat  about  snow 
peak  or  gray,  shivered  spine,  or  in  all  the  brilliant  depth  of  air. 

Compassed  about  with  their  great  cloud  of  witness,  we  passed 
up  the  valley.  We  looked  back  continually  to  where  the  vast- 
ness  of  Mont  Blanc  enthroned  itself,  in  body  of  solid  light.  It 
lay  behind  us  southwardly,  stretching  its  tremendous  shape  be 
tween  range  and  range. 

At  the  top  of  this  river-aisle,  we  came  into  the  little  village  of 
Argentieres. 

Here  pours  down  the  third  great  river  of  ice,  counting  from 
the  south ;  the  glacier  of  Argentieres  ;  heaving  and  sweeping 
downward  from  those  far,  infinite  snows,  between  the  Aiguilles 
Verte  and  Chardonnet. 

From  the  village  we  turned  away  toward  the  left,  opposite 
the  glacier,  and  began  the  long  forenoon  climb  up  the  difficult, 
steep  zigzags  of  the  Montets.  There  used  only  to  be  a  bridle 
path  at  this  part  of  the  way ;  but  they  promise  you  carriage 
now ;  and  then  make  you  get  out  and  walk  as  often  as  they 
can. 

"We  were  glad  enough  to  trust  to  oui  own  feet  at  some  of  the 
precipitous  scrambles,  and  we  overtook  an  English  family  party 
with  their  private  equipage,  who  were  forced,  poor  things,  — 
mother  and  several  daughters,  —  to  toil  painfully  up  miles  of 
the  ascent  over  which  their  slight,  handsome  little  horses  proved 
utterly  incapable  of  dragging  the  loaded  carriage.  The  father, 
leading  the  tired  beasts,  behind  which  the  dainty  open  vehicle, 


FROM   ARVE   TO  RHONE.  245 

filled  with  their  bags  and  wraps,  jolted  perilously,  —  looked 
anxious  enough. 

"  It  was  a  great  mistake,"  the  elder  lady  said  to  me,  as  I 
paused  and  spoke  commiseratingly.  That  was  in  the  afternoon 
climbing  the  Forclaz,  beyond  Tete  Noire ;  we  felt  like  priests 
and  Levites,  passing  by  and  leaving  them  there  ;  we  never  knew 
what  became  of  them,  or  where  they  could  possibly  have  got 
to  for  the  night ;  but  we  were  powerless  to  assist  them. 

Along  the  high  ridge  of  Tete  Noire,  —  under  it  rather,  for 
the  mountain  road  clings  to  the  steep  side  along  a  narrow  ledge 
and  passes,  by  a  hewn  gallery,  through  the  huge  black  profile  of 
the  cliff,  —  we  looked  down  as  we  went,  into  the  deep,  wild 
lovely  valley  with  its  river  and  village,  a  mile  below  us,  plum 
met-fall. 

The  black  cliff-head  itself  was  not  so  curiously  wonderful  to 
me  as  this  beautiful  little  secluded  world  beneath. 

The  forest  and  valley  worlds  are  as  infinite  in  their  revelations 
as  the  upper  realms  of  peaks  and  snows.  You  look  in,  and 
down,  and  up,  to  places  of  which  you  have  this  one  momentary 
glimpse  as  you  go  by,  and  shall  never  see  again  ;  the  instant 
has  for  you  just  what  you  can  grasp  and  take  away.  The  hid 
den  marvels  draw  you  into  dreams  of  things  that  the  very  next 
day  have  half  withdrawn  themselves  as  dreams  do,  and  half  re 
main,  an  intangible,  eternal  delight. 

I  could  not  tell  you,  even  now,  just  where  it  was  upon  our 
way,  that  I  saw  this  :  —  a  fir-grove,  reaching  up  a  long,  steep 
slope  on  our  right  hand ;  the  slender  stems,  like  pillars,  shooting 
straight  from  among  low  rocks,  cushioned  every  one  with  ex 
quisite  mosses,  and  lying  piled  upon  one  another  up  the  acclivity 
as  no  hand  could  pile  upholsteries  of  velvet ;  these  plumy  in 
every  crevice  with  nodding  ferns  of  cunningest  sweet  tracery, 
and  with  springing,  swinging  vines,  that,  tossed  by  the  wind, 
caught  at  the  tree-boles  and  held  fast,  still  rushing  upward  in 
swift  growth,  and  flung  themselves  into  wild,  delicate  interchange 
and  interlacing,  back  and  forth,  above  ;  over  all  and  beyond,  a 
gleam  of  bluest  heaven  smiling  in  across  the  hill-top  ;  —  a  retreat 
of  elf-land,  where  your  own  fancies  rush  in  and  wing  themselves 
and  take  fairy-possession,  and  enact  you  a  hundred  tales  and 


246  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

poems  as  you  pass  that  once  of  all  your  life ;  —  can  you  see  this, 
Rose,  by  my  faint  seeing  and  yet  fainter  telling  ? 

Or  can  you  see  what  we  came  to  in  the  twilight,  after  we 
had  crossed  the  crest,  or  col,  and  came  down  in  swift  swirls 
or  lashes,  to  and  fro,  into  the  other  valley  of  Martigny  ? 

Can  you  see  that  road  along  which  we  swung,  doubling  itself 
sharply  against  the  steep,  with  strips  of  rocky,  woody  mount 
ain  pasture  belted  between  its  lines,  and  here  and  there,  in 
lower  and  lower  distances,  flocks  of  cattle  spotting  the  inclines, 
their  far-off  bells  tinkling  one  to  another  a  multitudinous  sweet 
harmony  ? 

Can  you  see  the  Rhone  lying  there  beneath,  stretching  itself 
between  the  quiet  towns  and  along  the  still,  green  spaces,  after 
its  foaming  rush  from  its  glacial  cradle  down  through  remote 
Alpine  gorges  and  cavern  clefts  ?  Can  you  fancy  yourself  drop 
ping,  dropping,  with  each  roadsweep,  down  through  all,  toward 
it,  —  from  terrace  to  terrace,  pasture  to  pasture,  and  then  into 
shade  of  vineyard  and  orchard,  till  the  way  is  walled  in  on 
either  hand,  and  all  at  once  you  are  in  the  narrow  streets  of  a 
Swiss  town  again  ? 

But  not  to  stop.  We  had  talked  it  over  on  the  way,  and 
determined  to  sleep  at  Vernayaz ;  or  rather,  at  the  Gorge  du 
Trient,  half  a  mile  or  more  this  side ;  to  see  the  wonderful  rift 
through  which  the  river  plunges  and  has  torn  its  way  — •  or 
found  it  torn,  —  nine  miles  through  the  mountain  heart,  and 
hundreds  of  feet  below  the  daylight,  from  the  beautiful  gloom 
of  the  forest  of  Trient,  wherein  we  had  threaded  our  way  among 
such  pictures  as  I  have  made  faint  pen-touches  of. 

We  passed  the  cavern-like  entrance  as  we  crossed  the  little 
bridge,  and  drove  up  to  the  front  of  the  gay,  new  hotel. 

The  sky  was  yet  bright  with  saffron  and  pink,  and  they  told 
us  there  would  be  time  lo  go  up  the  river  gallery  before  dusk. 
So  we  quickly  paid  our  voiturier,  entered  our  names,  and  had 
our  rooms  assigned  without  seeing  them ;  left  our  small  lug 
gage  to  be  carried  up  while  we  were  absent,  and  hurried  away 
again,  —  four  girls  if  there  were  two  of  us,  —  into  —  we  knew 
not  what. 

The  mountain  gateway  opened  black  and  arched  above  our 
heads,  and  at  our  feet  leaped  forth  the  river. 


FROM    ARVE   TO   RHONE.  247 

Just  inside  began  the  railed,  narrow  plankway,  set  against  the 
rock  with  beams,  and  clamps  of  iron,  and  overhanging  the  deep 
stream,  ink-dark  already  in  the  shadow. 

The  walls  of  rock  towered  up  five  hundred  feet,  and  seemed 
to  meet  above  and  close  before  us.  Into  the  darkness  wound 
the  slight  gallery,  whose  floor  trembled  with  our  own  footfall, 
and  thrilled  continually  with  the  thunderous  rush  of  the  pent 
waters.  When  we  dared  to  look  down,  we  saw  white  flashes  of 
foam  upon  the  moving  blackness. 

We  had  refused  a,  guide,  —  they  told  us  there  was  no  need, 
and  we  hated  guides  so,  when  they  could  only  show  what  more 
sublimely  showed  itself,  —  and  we  four  women  found  ourselves 
penetrating  an  under  world,  utterly  alone.  It  was  late  to  go  in, 
and  few  would  choose  the  time.  We  met  one  party  of  three 
persons  coming  out  as  we  entered  ;  and  after  that,  we  were  in 
this  beating  heart  of  mountain  organism,  shut  with  its  live 
awfulness,  its  initial  secret  forces,  with  no  other  human  heart 
beat  near  ! 

Round  the  projecting  cragpoints  where  the  deep  rock-vein 
bent  its  course,  —  across  the  leaping  torrent  that  hurled  itself, 
madly  urgent,  along  its  buried  channel,  —  the  little  footbridge 
hung  and  swayed,  and  we  passed  on,  the  echoes  crashing  round 
us  and  the  wild  whirl  beneath  our  feet. 

Edith  was  first,  like  a  pure,  fearless  Una;  Emery  Ann  was 
next,  then  I,  then  Margaret. 

Suddenly,  Emery  Ann  sat  down,  and  turned  her  face  and 
hands  against  the  black,  wet  rock,  and  clung  there,  like  a  fright 
ened  swallow  to  a  wall. 

"  It 's  perfectly  ridiculous,"  she  sobbed  and  laughed  ;  "  but  I 
can't  go  a  mite  farther.  It 's  aw  —  ful !  " 

"  We  won't  go,  then,"  said  I,  stooping  to  her,  and  fearing  a 
real  hysteric.  "  We  will  go  back,  and  come  again  by  daylight. 
Edith,  dear!" 

Edith  turned. 

But  then  cried  Emery  Ann,  —  "I  can't  go  back,  neither ! 
I  've  got  to  see  it  eout !  "  In  her  intense  feeling,  she  relapsed 
into  her  intensest  New  England  provincialism. 

I  stood,  and  quietly  waited ;  only  saying  after  a  minute'a 
pause,  "  We  must  n't  be  too  long,  you  know  !  " 


248  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  Emery  Ann,  rising  with  calm  resolve 
"As  goods  now  as  any  time.  But  I  feel  as  if  I'd  got  half 
through  dyin'." 

She  spoke  the  words  quite  quietly,  and  in  simple,  solemn 
earnest. 

Before  us,  now,  rounded  out  the  "  Chapel."  An  enlarged 
chamber,  almost  domed  in  by  the  deep-scooped,  overleaning 
wall. 

I  wondered  if  it  were  only  a  name,  or  if  ever  a  service  had 
been  held  here.  What  a  place  for  a  prayer  to  go  up  out  of, 
from  spirits  in  prison  of  sense  and  sin !  How  one's  very  soul 
would  call  toward  the  light ! 

And  to  say  here,  —  standing  under  the  mountain,  —  caught 
as  in  its  awful,  mysterious  grasp,  —  "  In  His  hand  are  all  the 
corners  of  the  earth  ;  and  the  strength  of  the  hills  is  His  also  ! " 

"  Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  Spirit  ?  Whither  shall  I  flee 
from  thy  Presence?  If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  — if  I  descend 
into  the  abyss,  —  Thou  art  there  ;  Thou  art  there  ! " 

I  had  not  turned  until  I  reached  midway.  As  these  thoughts 
pressed  upon  me,  hiding  me  away  as  in  the  closet  of  the  world, 
there  to  hear  speaking  itself  to  me  the  Name  of  Him  who  seeth 
in  secret,  and  who  makes  all  hush  and  depth  and  solitude  to  fill 
them  with  Himself,  —  for  a  moment  I  did  not  recollect  my  com 
panions. 

Edith  and  Emery  Ann  were  walking  slowly  round,  to  where 
the  passage  plunged  again  into  an  unknown,  chasmy  shaft. 

I  discovered  that  Margaret  had  not  entered  the  Chapel. 

Could  anything  have  happened  ?  Could  she  possibly  have 
fallen  ? 

I  called  to  the  others  to  wait  a  moment,  and  rushed  back. 

I  found  her  trembling  in  the  darkness,  holding  by  the  rail, 
looking  over  into  the  roaring  press  of  the  horrible  river.  I  put 
my  arm  round  her  and  called  her  by  name.  She  sunk  down, 
then,  as  Emery  Ann  had  done,  and  clung  to  me. 

"  I  cannot  bear  it,"  she  whispered.  "  The  weight  of  every 
thing  is  upon  us,  —  and  that  is  hurrying,  tearing  on,  underneath. 
It  is  ploughing  down  the  mountain !  I  think  it  is  like  all  the 
wrong  of  the  world,  —  and  the  trouble,  —  and  the  judgment ! " 


FROM  ARVE   TO  RHONE.  249 

Some  people  would  have  told  her  she  was  nervous,  and  have 
hurried  her  back  to  the  daylight,  and  tried  to  make  her  forget 
the  mountain  and  the  river.  I  could  not.  Like  Emery  Ann, 
I  felt  that  every  syllable  she  said  was  true,  but  that  we  must 
see  the  rest  of  it.  It  was  too  real  a  word  to  run  cowardly 
away  from,  —  to  leave  unfinished. 

"  There  must  be  more,"  I  said.  "  It  is  a  great  parable,  and 
because  I  feel  a  part  of  it,  I  am  sure  of  the  other  part  too.  I 
want  to  find  it.  There  is  not  any  scripture  of  the  world  that 
ends  without  a  gospel." 

She  grew  a  little  calmer  at  that.  If  she  had  been  made  to 
think  of  her  own  nerves  only,  she  would  not  have  grown  calm. 
But  she  still  knelt  and  held  fast  by  my  hand. 

Suddenly,  I  heard  steps  approaching.  I  looked  back,  and 
saw  dimly  a  man's  figure  moving  along  the  gallery  toward  the 
crossing  where  we  were. 

"  Margaret !  get  up  !  there  are  people  coming !  I  don't 
know,  indeed,  if  we  ought  to  stay  here  now."  I  turned  and 
beckoned  to  Emery  Ann  and  Edith,  who  stood  now  just  within 
the  reach  of  vision  in  the  gloom. 

It  was  a  frightful  place  for  frightful,  human  possibilities.  I 
was  not  afraid  of  the  Lord's  Word ;  but  —  why  had  we  come  in 
without  a  guide  ?  The  darkness ;  the  solitude ;  robbery  ;  the 
swift  river  !  I  forgot,  in  my  momentary  panic,  that  the  river  ran 
out  presently  into  the  daylight. 

One  can  dream  a  long  dream  in  an  instant. 

The  figure  came  nearer.  Margaret  had  sprung  hastily  to 
her  feet.  My  fear  touched  her  ;  the  others  had  come  up.  We 
all  stood  huddled  together  in  the  narrow  pass. 

"  Is  there  any  trouble  ?"  said  the  voice  of  a  gentleman. 

The  tone  was  to  my  trepidation  like  the  touch  of  a  finger 
upon  a  vibrating,  ringing  glass  ;  hushing  it  down,  instantly. 

A  dozen  steps  brought  him  beside  us. 

"  Thank  you,  no,"  I  answered,  briefly.  There  was  no  expla 
nation  that  we  could  make  to  a  stranger.  "  I  think  we  must  go 
back,  now.  It  was  only  "  — 

"  My  dear  Miss  Strong !     Miss  Margaret ! " 

It  was  not  a  stranger.     It  was  General  Rushleigh. 


250  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  !  "  cried  I,  feeling  a  hysterical  catch  in  my 
own  voice  at  the  happy  revulsion. 

"  I  guess  likely  we  were  all  getting  into  a  kind  of  a  scare  to 
gether,"  said  Emery  Ann,  with  a  long  breath.  "  It  's  a  terrible 
pokerish  place  !  " 

"  Now  we  can  go,"  said  Margaret,  quietly. 

"  On,  or  out  ?  "  asked  General  Eushleigh. 

"  Oh,  on  !  One  must  see  the  rest  of  it.  It  is  too  awful  a 
beginning  to  stop  in.  One's  thought  of  it  would  never  stop." 

We  turned  in  our  order,  as  we  stood,  —  Emery  Ann,  Edith, 
I ;  Margaret  and  General  Rushleigh. 

I  heard  Margaret  speak,  in  a  low  voice,  as  we  went  forward 
through  the  Chapel. 

"  It  was  unendurable,  just  for  a  moment.  It  seemed  as  if  I 
felt  the  weight  of  the  world,  and  the  terribleness  —  of  some 
thing  black,  and  live,  and  awful,  that  rushed  under  it,  and  tore 
it,  and  would  never  end.  The  whole  mountain  is  between  us 
and  the  light  of  the  sky ;  even  between  us  and  the  little  grow 
ing  roots  of  grass  !  "  Her  voice  trembled  again. 

•'  Let  me  pass,  please,"  I  heard  General  Rushleigh  say.  "  Let 
me  go  first,  Miss  Margaret.  Now  ! " 

As  he  came  next  me,  I  turned  a  little,  and  saw  him  take  her 
hand,  and  lead  her  gently,  like  a  little  child. 

"Yes.  There  is  the  whole  mountain.  But  the  growing 
grass  is  there,  above  ;  and  the  pleasant  air  and  light.  It  is  good 
we  can  think  through  the  mountain  when  we  cannot  see.  But 
wait  ! " 

We  pressed  into  a  yet  intenser  gloom. 

We  threaded  a  depth  in  which  the  cleft  edges  far  above 
seemed  to  meet  and  shut  us  down,  as  if  stern  lips  had  closed, 
and  we  were  swallowed. 

Still,  under  our  feet,  the  unseen  river  rended  on. 

Yet  we  did  see,  faintly.     A  light  stole  in,  somewhere. 

And  presently  the  sound  of  the  deep  rushing  changed,  or 
blent  with  a  different  voice  of  waters.  Of  waters  leaping  in  a 
freer  air,  and  scattering,  flashing ;  the  soft,  foamy  crush  of  a 
cascade. 

We  Avere  coming  to  another  open,  rounded  space.  But  we 
did  not  see,  we  could  not  guess,  till  we  came  into  it ! 


FROM   ARVE   TO   RHONE.  251 

The  Heart  of  the  Mountain  breathed  right  up  to  Heart  of 
Heaven  ! 

A  fair,  lofty  chamber,  —  a  beautiful  Well;  walled,  indeed, 
with  jagged  stone,  and  its  confines  reaching  up  those  unscalable 
five  hundred  feet.  But  we  never  thought  how  deep  down  we 
were,  for  what  there  was  above  us  !  Yes,  and  beside. 

At  our  feet,  the  rocks  lay  broken,  —  piled  and  grouped,  as 
they  lie  above  ground,  —  a  lovely  picturesqueness,  —  a  repose, 
—  instead  of  a  sheer,  hopeless  depth ;  —  instead  of  a  chasm, 
pitilessly  cleft  beneath,  but  sealed  over  our  heads,  —  a  chasm 
cut  upward,  into  heaven.  Instead  of  the  horrible  Styx  torrent, 
a  broadened  stream,  and  praiseful  cataracts  ;  white  with  parted 
drops  and  light  let  in ;  powdery  with  beautiful  mist,  that  rose 
and  fell  like  dew  ;  singing,  instead  of  howling. 

A  peace ;  a  gladness ;  a  smile,  a  promise,  broken  down  and 
in.  A  sweet  smell  of  growing  things ;  tender  little  vines  and 
ferns  making  a  green  drapery  from  crevice  to  crevice,  —  falling, 
as  the  waters  fell,  lightly  over  the  great  rocks;  swinging  in  the 
pleasant  sky-shine,  all  the  way  up  those  craggy  sides. 

Arching  across,  —  a  lessened  firmament,  —  the  bended  blue. 
In  it,  little  clouds  floating,  pink  and  golden.  As  if  the  tiniest, 
tenderest  flecks  hung  over  here,  to  be  in  harmony. 

We  had  lived  almost  into  a  midnight  in  our  thoughts,  and 
yet  the  sunset  was  not  over  ! 

"  There  is  a  way  up,  from  anywhere  ! "  said  Emery  Ann. 
"  Unless,"  she  added,  orthodoxly,  "  from  the  bottomless  pit." 

"  The  way  from  that  may  be  even  through  ;  and  the  mercy  of 
it,  that  it  is  bottomless,"  said  General  Rushleigh.  "  Down  has 
to  be  up,  beyond  a  certain  middle." 

"  Unless  you  have  to  hang  there,  and  look  both  ways,"  said 
Emery  Ann. 

"  Until  the  Sabbath,"  said  General  Rushleigh. 

I  think  no  one  caught  the  words  but  me.  He  spoke  them  as 
if  to  himself.  I  wondered  what  he  meant. 

"We  stood  under  that  fair  light  until  the  flecks  of  cloud  had 
drunk  up  the  sweet  color,  and  changed  slowly  into  gray  ;  and 
the  dusk  fell  in  upon  the  green,  growing  beauty  and  the  white 
water-foam. 


252  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

"  Now  we  must  go,"  I  said ;  and  once  more  General  Rush- 
Jeigh  passed  Margaret,  and  went  first,  leading  us  all.  I  think 
he  turned  and  took  her  baud  again,  as  we  reentered  the  now 
thickening  shadow.  Margaret  reached  her  left  hand  back  for 
mine,  and  that  made  me  guess  it.  Where  the  path  was  narrow 
est,  and  the  roar  deepest,  I  also  felt  backward  for  Edith,  and  she 
for  Emery  Ann. 

At  last  we  were  forth  again,  into  free  space  and  the  quiet, 
dropping  nightfall. 

How  dear  and  safe  is  the  roominess  over  the  world ! 


....  General  Rushleigh  had  come  down  with  his  friend 
toward  Martigny,  and  they  had  stopped  here  at  the  Gorge. 
He  had  met  Mrs.  Regis  at  Basle,  and  had  escorted  her  as  far 
as  Lausanne,  where  she  now  waited  us.  We  had  missed  a  letter 
somehow ;  probably  it  would  follow  us  from  Chamounix. 

"  I  should  have  looked  for  you  at  Martigny,"  he  said.  "  My 
friend  goes  on  to  Chamounix,  thence  up  the  valley  of  the  Rhone 
and  down  the  Vorder  Rheinthal  to  Chur  and  Ragatz,  where  I 
have  promised  to  find  him  again.  After  that,  we  retrace  each 
other's  way ;  he  returns  northward  into  Germany,  and  I  go  by 
the  Rheinthal  and  the  St.  Gotthard  Pass  into  Italy.  I  have 
been  before  to  Chamounix,  and  over  the  Simplon,  but  I  have 
never  seen  the  Oberland  and  the  Rhigi.  Mine  have  been  very 
scrappy  snatches  at  Europe.  I  came  over  when  I  was  a  college 
boy ;  that  was  in  winter.  Then  we  came  again  to  bring  my 
sister — Margaret;"  he  dwelt  very  gently  upon  the  name,  and 
I  wondered  if  wholly  for  the  sister's  sake ;  —  "  and  my  father 
.and  I  were  recalled  by  the  breaking  out  of  the  war.  Once 
more  I  came,  and  spent  two  months  in  France  and  Northern 
Italy,  when  my  father's  death  summoned  me  back  again." 

At  that  mention,  he  paused. 

I  remarked,  — "  Our  own  plan  takes  us  to  Interlachen,  and 
over  the  Wengern  Alp  to  Lucerne  and  the  Rhigi." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Regis  has  made  me  welcome  to  join  you,  if  you 
also  will  allow  ?  " 

I  could  not  tell  if  it  were  good  or  ill,  but  I  could  not  help 


FROM   ARVE  TO  RHONE.  253 

being  glad  of  it,  or  saying  so,  friendlily.     Indeed,  how  could  I 
have  helped  the  thing  itself? 

Emery  Ann's  mind  had  been  upon  the  successive  contin 
gencies  that  he  had  spoken  of. 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  lot,  almost,  on  your  coming  to  Europe," 
she  said  to  him.  "  I  should  think  you  would  be  half  expecting 
something  to  happen." 

" "  I  am  learning  to  leave  all  that,"   he  answered.     "  Some 
times  the  thing  to  happen  is,  that  nothing  does." 

Had  he  thought  of  anything,  then,  that  might  happen  ?  Had 
he  given  anything  up  ? 

"  I  hope  it  may  be  great  pleasantness  and  good,  this  time," 
said  Margaret,  in  her  clear  tone,  cordially. 

Anybody  might  have  said  it ;  it  was  a  natural  courtesy  and 
kindliness.  She  looked  up  at  him  very  frankly,  and  there  was  a 
shine  of  warm  good-will  in  her  beautiful  womanly  eyes. 

His  "  Thank  you  ! "  sounded  like  heart-thanks. 

We  were  walking  over  at  this  time  —  the  next  morning  after 
our  meeting  • —  from  the  hotel  toward  the  zigzag  footpath  that 
had  allured  us  from  our  windows,  when  we  discovered  it  wind 
ing  up  the  steep  farther  half  of  the  cloven  mountain,  on  the  side 
beyond  the  Gorge. 

General  Rushleigh's  friend  had  left  early,  for  the  Tete  Noire 
and  Chamounix. 

We  had  spoken  of  the  Gorge  again,  —  of  visiting  it  by  day 
light.  General  Rushleigh  had  seen  it  both  by  noon  and  dusk. 
It  had  been  his  sudden  impulse  to  sound  it  in  the  shadowy 
evening  time,  unprofaned  by  the  curious  crowd,  that  had  led 
him  to  our  meeting  there. 

But  we  felt  as  if  that  great  experience,  as  it  has  come  to  us, 
could  never  be  repeated.  We  preferred  to  keep  it  sole,  and 
beautiful,  and  solemn,  as  it  had  been. 

The  September  day,  upon  the  valley  and  the  heights,  was 
glorious.  This  cliff  that  we  were  going  to  climb  was  golden- 
edged  upon  its  summit  with  dead-ripe  grass,  but  broken  upon  the 
hither  projecting  face  of  it  with  clumps  of  shrub  and  jagged, 
stony  angles,  among  which  the  path  crept  up.  Its  opposite,  as 
we  passed  the  foot  below,  was  black  with  perpendicular  rock, 


25-1  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

and  heavy  above  with  evergreens.  The  morning  lay  full  upon 
the  one  ;  the  other  waited  for  the  evening. 

The  two  girls  sprang  up  like  kids.  We  elder  ones  saved  our 
breath,  and  helped  ourselves  along  slowly  with  stout  alpenstocks. 

We  met  peasant  women  and  boys,  laden  with  brushwood, 
coming  down  from  turn  to  turn,  as  we  mounted.  The  cheerful 
"  Bon  jour,  madame,"  —  passed  from  lip  to  lip  between  women 
who  had  come  a  quarter  of  the  way  around  the  mid-north  paral 
lels  to  see  these  hills,  and  daughters  of  toil  and  narrow  life  who 
of  all  the  forms  and  places  of  the  earth  would  never  behold  else, 
—  touched  me  as  it  was  said ;  one  word  between  human  souls 
meeting  for  a  single  instant  out  of  an  unknown,  unlike  past, 
and  parting  into  an  unknown  —  who  can  tell  how  far  unlike  ?  — 
future. 

The  path  led  out  upon  the  hither  side  the  crown,  which 
seemed  a  sharp,  sudden  ridge.  We  rested  among  the  low  furze 
and  pine,  in  pleasant  recessed  nooks,  where  the  dry  turf  made 
cushions,  or  the  lichened  rocks  cropped  out  and  sloped  away 
beneath  the  soil  again,  offering  at  once  bench  and  footstool. 

Facing  us  as  we  sat,  was  the  dark-crested  other  half  beyond 
the  Gorge,  whose  rift  lay  invisible  to  us  among  the  broken  and 
wooded  outlines. 

Off  at  the  left,  this  summit-country  which  we  had  climbed  to 
dropped  away  more  gently ;  and  among  wild  pastures  and 
groups  of  forest  growth,  we  could  see  the  cottages  of  herdsmen 
and  mountain  folk.  There  seemed  no  end  of  beguiling  winding 
ways  among  the  dips  and  swells  of  lofty  upland,  —  around  juts  of 
gray,  picturesque  rock,  —  and  down  evergreen  glades  opening 
each  from  each  in  delicious  labyrinths.  In  the  turf  beside  us 
grew  tiny  Alpine  blossoms  of  gold  and  crimson  and  purple 
color ;  curious,  delicate,  small  ferns ;  the  air  was  sweet  with 
what  the  sunshine  drew  from  trees  and  herbage. 

Edith  went  up  toward  the  outer  ridge.  A  strange,  quick  ex 
clamation  from  her,  half  horror,  half  some  beautiful  amaze,  inter 
rupted  our  separate,  silent  pleasure,  and  impelled  us  to  our  feet 
and  toward  her,  with  we  knew  not  what  apprehension  or  expec 
tancy. 

She  stood   upon  the  very  verge,  over  which   another   step 


FROM   ARVE   TO   RHONE.  255 

would  have  sent  her  down,  sheer  to  the  mountain  foot.  She  had 
not  imagined  that  it  ended  so ;  the  whole  slope  was  so  piled  and 
grouped,  with  ridgy  rock  behind  rock,  leaving  little  drops  and 
hollows  between.  But  here  was  the  last.  Clean  depth  alone 
was  beyond.  -  Down  into  the  valley,  the  way  we  had  come  in 
last  night.  The  road  wound  white,  like  a  thread,  upon  the  green, 
and  the  Rhone  lay  still,  like  a  dull  moat,  beyond.  Behind 
Martigny  rose  a  great,  gray  pyramid,  —  I  think  the  Pierre  a 
voir.  Northward,  the  peaks  of  the  Bernese  Alps.  The  whole 
outspread  of  the  intervale  was  directly  under  us,  and  we  looked 
across  through  blue  air  upon  the  giants'  faces. 

We  exclaimed  with  wonder ;  we  pressed  as  close  as  we 
dared  ;  we  shrieked  to  each  other  not  to  go  nearer.  I  held 
Edith  convulsively  by  her  skirts. 

"  There  may  be  safer  places,"  said  General  Rushleigh.  "  The 
cliff  rounds  out,  there,  at  the  front,  a  little  lower." 

We  followed  him  back  to  where  we  had  first  gained  the 
height. 

Over  the  swell,  beside  which  the  path  had  turned  to  run  par 
allel  with  this  edge  that  we  had  just  found  out,  we  discovered  a 
kind  of  shoulder  which  thrust  forth  from  the  black  precipice  a 
turfy  slope,  ending  again  a  little  down,  in  the  plunge  of  rocky 
breaks  and  pitches  making  the  front  projection  that  buttresses 
the  mountain,  and  walls  on  that' side  the  dark  entrance,  —  or 
more  strictly,  exit,  —  of  the  river  gorge. 

It  spread  out  far  enough ;  if  it  had  been  among  other  gentle 
slopes  and  levels,  we  should  have  thought  it  quite  a  field-space  ; 
but  knowing  what  a  little  run,  —  an  unchecked  impluse,  —  a 
slip,  even,  on  the  dry  sward,  —  upon  the  windswept  height, 
might  bring  us  to,  we  came  down  over  the  crest  upon  it  cau 
tiously,  and  with  a  quiver  in  our  limbs. 

Under  this  edge,  the  keen  wind  was  partly  broken.  We  were 
sheltered,  where  we  seated  ourselves,  at  the  top  of  the  little  plat 
eau,  our  backs  against  the  rock.  The  air  siffled  gently  through 
the  low  grass ;  the  sun  lay  warm  upon  it.  Away  up  there,  in 
the  stillness,  in  the  mid-air,  it  was  a  real  eyrie  of  peace. 

The  girls  got  out  their  little  pressing-books,  and  sketching- 
tablets  ;  they  laid  away  bits  of  fern  and  blossom  to  keep  to  re- 


256  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

member  the  day  by  ;  they  tried  to  pencil  some  outlines  of  what 
they  saw  in  that  grand  sky-grouping  of  hill-tops  in  their  level 
line  of  vision,  and  in  the  far-down  picture  of  fields  and  farms 
and  rivers. 

"  Something  to  remember  by ; "  scraps  of  sketch  that  would 
be-  to  the  real  whole  of  it  what  the  few  pressed  fronds  and 
blooms  were  to  the  whole  gay,  sweet  mountain-side  on  which 
they  grew. 

We  talk  of  "  things  to  remember  days  by ; "  it  is  the  days, 
after  all,  that  we  remember  the  poor  things  by. 

It  was  such  a  Sabbath  feeling,  up  there ! 

It  brought  back  to  me  General  Rushleigh's  word  of  the  night 
before,  that  I  had  pondered  over  and  not  understood. 

As  he  sat  there  by  me,  —  the  others  just  below  our  feet  upon 
the  grass-slope,  —  I  could  not  help  asking  him. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  meant  last  night,  when  Emery 
Ann  spoke  about  the  '  pit,'  down  there  ?  You  said,  '  until  the 
Sabbath.' " 

He  smiled.  "  I  should  have  to  make  quite  a  little  preach  of 
it,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  you  would." 

"  It  is  not  what  I  am  much  given  to.  Things  have  preached 
to  me,  now  and  then,  within  these  dozen  years ;  I  hardly  know 
if  I  could  deliver  again  what  they  have  told  me." 

I  just  waited  and  listened.  Emery  Ann  sat  on  my  other  side, 
and  I  felt  her  listening  too.  Edith  and  Margaret  had  their 
heads  bent  over  their  tablets,  and  drew  faint  graceful  curves 
and  breaks  and  points,  just  reverently  venturing,  as  it  were, 
to  hint  at  the  surpassing  lines  they  saw  swept  and  shot  around 
them  into  and  athwart  the  blue. 

"  Some  things  in  my  own  life,  —  things  in  me  and  that  hap 
pened  to  me,  —  as  well  as  what  I  learned  in  such  a  rush  in 
those  tremendous  war-years,  —  brought  me  to  the  question 
that  I  suppose  everybody  has  to  meet ;  the  evil-question.  The 
pit  of  wrong  the  world  falls  into.  And  I  believe  the  first  com 
fort  I  got  out  of  it  was  a  strange  meaning  I  seemed  to  see  sud 
denly  in  words  that  have  been  taken  to  mean  hopelessness. 
All  at  once  I  said  to  myself,  —  or  somebody  said  in  my  in- 


FROM   ARVE   TO   RHONE.  257 

ward  hearing,  —  'I  am  glad  the  pit  is  bottomless !  It  can't 
hold :  men  can't  stay  fallen  ! ' ' 

I  felt  the  gladness  come  into  my  face  at  that  grand  thought. 
I  lifted  it  quickly  to  his,  and  perhaps  that  prompted  him  to  go 
on.  He  seemed  not  anxious  to  discuss  at  large  what  was  so 
real  to  him ;  it  came  slowly.  I  was  so  afraid  he  would  stop. 
He  did  pause  for  a  moment,  though  he  saw  me  waiting  eagerly. 

"  Did  it  ever  come  to  your  mind,"  he  began  again,  —  and 
while  he  spoke  he  stirred  and  traced  the  earth  in  a  little  rock- 
hollow  beside  him  with  the  point  of  his  stick,  in  a  way  of  me 
chanical  motion  people  have  when  what  they  say  is  not  cut  and 
dried  before,  but  comes  to  them  as  they  speak,  —  "  did  it  ever 
occur  to  you  that  Jesus  Christ  only  speaks  that  word  '  pit,'  — 
which  stands  for  a  continual  image  of  destruction  in  the  old 
Scripture,  —  once  in  the  course  of  what  makes  the  New  ?  And 
that  once  to  say,  — '  If  a  man  have  a  sheep,  and  it  fall  into  a 
pit,  will  he  not  lay  hold  of  it  and  pull  it  out  on  the  Sabbath- 
day  ? '  I  quote  it  not  exactly,  but  with  the  drift  of  the  two 
records  of  it." 

He  stopped  again.  He  might  converse  ;  he  evidently  would 
not  preach. 

I  said,  —  "I  never  thought  particularly  about  the  ' pit ; '  it 
was  the  healing  on  the  Sabbath." 

"  Exactly.  The  healing  of  the  Sabbath,  —  the  Sabbath  made 
for  man.  It  set  me  to  thinking  that  out.  And  I  found  a  pur 
pose,  I  thought,  in  the  Sabbath-cures.  They  were  signs  of  the 
covenant,  —  of  which  the  Sabbath  itself  was  a  sign.  He  put 
the  two  together.  He  never  did  anything  insignificantly." 

He  left  me  to  perceive  for  myself;  to  speak  my  perception, 
if  I  would. 

Letting  my  eyes  fall  on  something,  in  that  mechanical  watch 
ing  with  which  he  had  followed  his  stick,  I  found  the  something 
was  Margaret's  pencil ;  and  that  she  had  turned  it  point  up 
ward,  and  was  pressing  it  with  little  gyrations,  back  and  forth 
idly  upon  the  paper. 

" '  A  sign  between  me  and  you,  in  all  your  generations,' "  I 
repeated.  "  Is  not  that  it  ?  I  wish  I  had  a  Bible  here." 

"That  is  it,"  said  General  Rushleigh.  "And  this  more: 
17 


258  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

1  that  ye  may  know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  doth  sanctify  you.' 
And  '  sanctify,'  I  take  it,  is  '  sanify.'  They  stand  related  like 
'  whole  '  and  '  holy.'  It  is  the  Redemption  Promise.  '  Shall 
not  a  man  be  made  every  whit  whole  on  the  Sabbath-day  ? '  ' 

"  That  is  beautiful  etymology !  " 

"  It  is  in  the  words,  I  think,  literally  and  simply.  '  San-cire,' 
—  to  name,  to  declare,  to  establish  —  sound,  sane,  inviolable ; 
hence,  sacred." 

"  But  the  keeping  of  the  Sabbath  ?     The  rest  ? ' 

"Is  not  rest,  restoring?  'In  returning  and  rest,  ye  shall  be 
saved.' " 

"  Oh,  I  see ! "  I  cried,  gladly.  "  The  two  parts  of  the  sign  ; 
the  Divine,  the  human.  '  He  that  hath  entered  into  his  rest, 
hath  ceased  from  his  own  works,  as  the  Lord  did  from  his  ! ' ' 

"  Every  seventh  day  :  every  seventh  year  :  every  seventh  time 
seven,  the  jubilee  of  restoration.  Thejobel;  the  horn  of  proc 
lamation  ;  '  He  hath  raised  up  a  horn  of  salvation  for  us.'  It 
is  wonderful  how  they  crowd  together,  Miss  Patience ! " 

"  The  repeated  days,"  I  said,  softly ;  "  the  recurring  years ! 
It  is  like  the  seventy  times  seven  of  forgiveness."  The  crown 
ing  Scriptures  of  it  hurried  through  my  thought  to  my  lips. 
"  '  The  times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord ; '  '  for 
He  cometh,  He  cometh,  to  judge  the  earth.'  He  never  leaves 
off  coming ;  his  days  return,  and  return." 

"  We  believe  it,"  said  General  Rushleigh,  "  or  else  we  could 
not  live  in  this  land  of  pitfalls.  We  are  sure  that  there  is  no 
depth  over  which,  some  time,  the  Sabbath  shall  not  shine ;  as 
that  beautiful  little  heaven  shone  down  into  the  mountain." 

"  His  hand  is  not  shortened,  that  He  should  not  make  it 
come.  '  The  Son  of  Man  is  Lord  even  of  the  Sabbath.'  It 
does  not  matter  with  which  word  we  start;  we  come  round 
always  to  the  same  gospel." 

I  was  filled  full  of  joy  ;  I  did  not  want  to  hear,  or  say,  more  ; 
I  rested  in  the  gladness  silently,  as  we  sat  resting  in  the  blessed 
Bunshine. 

General  Rushleigh  rose,  and  moved  a  few  paces  forward. 

Margaret  turned  her  face  back  toward  me.  The  color  of  it 
was  beautiful.  The  suffused  intenseness  of  her  eyes  and  the 


FROM   ARVE   TO   RHONE.  259 

passion-curve  of  her  lip  were  a  visible  overflow  of  springs 
touched  inwardly.  She  resumed  her  first  posture  quickly, 
sensitive  even  of  sympathy.  At  the  same  moment  General 
Rushleigh  turned  also,  and  I  saw  his  seeing  of  her  look.  I  do 
not  know  if  their  eyes  met.  I  think  not,  by  the  brief,  but  cer 
tain  lingering  of  his. 

"  It  is  like  the  sea-shore ! "  said  Edith,  putting  by  her  sketch 
book  and  pencils.  "  Only  the  ocean  is  air,  and  we  look  down 
into  the  bed  of  it.  I  must  try  what  caves  there  are  under  that 
edge ! " 

I  entreated  her  not  to  move  rashly.  But  General  Rushleigh, 
who  had  been  standing,  and  had  seen  farther,  assured  me  that 
one  might  safely  descend  over  this  first  brink. 

He  took  Edith  by  the  hand,  and  planted  his  alpenstock  firmly 
in  the  turf.  They  went  down  to  what  seemed  to  me  the  very 
rim  of  the  precipice.  Then  I  saw  him  step  over,  and  descend 
until  only  his  head  and  shoulders  were  visible.  Edith  stooped, 
sat  down  upon  the  sward,  gave  her  hands  to  him,  and  disap 
peared.  In  a  moment  he  came  back  to  us. 

"  She  has  sent  for  you,  Miss  Margaret.  She  has  found  a 
wonderful  nest." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  let  them  go,"  I  said  to  Emery  Ann, 
astonished  at  myself,  as  he  and  Margaret,  in  turn,  dropped  down 
out  of  our  sight. 

"  I  do,"  said  Emery  Ann.  "  I  'd  let  'em  go  with  that  man 
into  —  perdition  —  forzino !  I  'd  go  myself !  Because  I  should 
know  it  would  n't  be  there,  if  he  was !  " 

When  they  did  not  come  back  for  ten  minutes,  Emery  Ann 
and  I  also  picked  up  our  sticks,  joined  hands,  and  walked  cau 
tiously  down  to  the  edge. 

It  was,  as  Edith  had  said,  just  like  a  cranny  of  a  shore.  It 
had  been  a  shore,  once,  perhaps.  Some  time  or  other,  great 
floods,  —  great  ice-streams,  may  be,  had  hollowed  and  ground 
*.he  cliff  into  clefts  and  caves.  One  descended  into  another,  by 
huge,  overlapping  fragments  and  projections  like  irregular  steps 
and  terraces.  In  beneath,  were  sheltered  nooks,  where  one 
could  sit,  like  a  sea-bird,  and  look  straight  forth  into  blue  air. 


260  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

They  were  not  far  down.  General  Rushleigh  was  standing, 
and  his  head  rose  above  the  next  step  of  the  rock.  He  heard 
our  voices,  and  turned,  saying,  u  Do  not  come  farther,  until  I 
help  you  ! "  And  he  was  about  to  climb  up  again.  But  we 
begged  him  not.  We  said  we  would  stay  where  we  were,  and 
seated  ourselves  on  a  nice  triangular  shelf  protected  at  each  side 
by  rising  cliff. 

Well  —  there  is  n't  a  word  more  to  tell  you  of  it !  If  you 
can  feel  yourself  there  with  us,  nested  in  the  mountain-face, 
you  know  all  that  I  could  go  on  to  say  of  the  hour  or  there 
abouts,  that  we  spent  there. 

So  still  it  was  ! 

I  do  not  think  the  others,  below,  were  talking  much  ;  though 
a  pleasant  tone  now  and  then  floated  up  to  our  hearing.  I  just 
said  to  Emery  Ann,  as  we  settled  ourselves  snugly,  —  "  Now  — 
we  won't  interrupt  each  other  !  " 

"  No,"  replied  that  straightforward  person ;'  "  let  us  hold  our 
tongues  ! " 

I  wanted  to  tell  her  how  that  sounded  to  me ;  but  I  would 
not  say  another  syllable.  It  made  me  think,  —  for  the  common, 
rough  word  was  spoken  more  with  the  subduedness  of  "  let  us 
hush  ourselves,"  —  of  the  minister  in  the  pulpit  saying  "  Let  us 
pray ! " 

By  and  by  it  was  one  o'clock.  There  were  letters  to  write, 
and  we  must  get  something  to  eat.  So  we  came  down  the 
mountain. 

"  I  have  had  such  a  happy  day  !  "  Margaret  said  to  me  that 
night,  as  she  kissed  me  at  the  door  of  my  room.  "  I  think 
friends  are  the  very  riches  of  life  !  We  can  only  have  just  so 
many  blood-relations,  —  that  we  are  born  to,  you  know  ;  and  we 
can  only  choose  one  —  person  —  to  —  relate  ourselves  to.  But 
we  can  be  finding  friends  always.  I  am  so  glad  I  have  known 
you,  Miss  Patience  !  " 

We  had  telegraphed  early  in  the  morning  to  Mrs.  Regis,  at 
Lausanne,  that  we  would  come  round  by  next  day's  train.  She 
telegraphed  back  at  evening  that  she  would  meet  us  at  the  sta 
tion  there,  and  go  on  to  Interlacheu. 

We  were  glad  not  to  lose  a  day. 


INCIDENT.  261 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

INCIDENT. 


....  WE  drove  to  St.  Maurice  early,  in  an  open  carriage, 
General  Rushleigh  sitting  on  the  box  with  the  driver.  On  the 
same  side  with  the  Gorge,  we  passed  at  our  left  the  waterfall  of 
the  Sallenche,  with  its  lovely  white  rush  out  of  the  heart  of  the 
rock,  streaming  down  till  its  particles  thin  almost  into  invisibil 
ity  before  it  touches  the  valley  below ;  a  spring  of  two  hundred 
feet,  of  the  torrent  that  comes  down  from  the  glaciers  of  the 
Dent  du  Midi.  You  remember  the  Dent  du  Midi,  that  I  told 
you  of  as  we  saw  it,  —  the  first  ice-mountain  at  all  near,  —  from 
the  terraces  at  Glion  ?  Now  we  were  winding  back  around  its 
base  toward  the  point  we  started  from. 

The  railway,  which  we  took  at  St.  Maurice,  crosses  the  gray 
Rhone,  runs  down  the  valley  between  its  mountain  lines, 
threads  deep,  beautiful  forest  glens  and  gorges,  and  at .  last 
curves  around  the  end  of  the  Lake,  bringing  us  to  Chillon, 
Montreux,  Vevay,  again. 

"We  looked  up  at  our  old  home  at  Glion,  —  for  it  really 
seemed  like  that,  and  we  like  wanderers  of  years  in  a  mysteri 
ous  enchanted  land,  as  we  found  ourselves  gliding  under  the 
shadow  of  its  mountain,  and  recognized  our  own  windows  in 
the  front  of  its  "  pension  ; "  high  up  on  the  midway  plateau. 

In  the  two  or  three  hours  of  our  journey,  I  was  —  beside  tak 
ing  in  the  pleasure  of  the  way  —  reading  to  myself  a  sort  of  in 
ward  chapter  of  the  little  history  in  which  I  found  myself  living. 

Not  very  much  happens  outside,  after  all,  from  point  to  point 
of  real  stories.  Book  narratives  are  full  of  accident.  Life  is 
fuller  of  incident.  I  do  not  think  we  ought  to  hold  the  words 
synonymous.  If  we  do,  we  want  another  word,  to  express  the 


262  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

happenings  in.  That  which  comes  in  —  or  upon  —  us,  —  our 
very  selves,  —  is  more,  and  more  continual,  than  the  things 
which  arrive  to  us,  from  without. 

We  were  having  no  adventures,  beyond  the  beautiful  advent 
ure  we  came  for,  and  dimly  anticipated.  Nobody  had  been  in 
peril,  or  awkwardness,  or  anyway  strangely  or  excitingly  placed, 
in  regard  to  any  other.  But  within  this  regularity  of  circum 
stance  in  the  midst  of  all  wild  possibilities  which  a  professional 
perception  —  of  tale-writer  or  tale-reader  —  would  seize  upon 
with  an  instinct  of  inevitable  "  sensations,"  there  was  steadily 
finding  its  hidden  way  a  life-evolvement  more  subtle,  more  truly 
absorbing  in  its  interest,  to  the  perception  that  could  trace  it 
from  its  here  and  there  discovery,  than  any  tangle  of  rapid  fic 
tion-movement  made  by  shaking  at  will  the  fairy-purse  of  oc 
currence. 

I  put  this  and  that  talk  together  that  I  had  had  with  Mar 
garet. 

I  remembered  her  brief  sentence  that  day  at  the  Royal  Acad 
emy  Exhibition  in  London,  when  I  had  asked  her  if  it  would  be 
true  enough  for  a  man  to  marry  a  girl  only  to  keep  his  promise. 
And  she  had  answered,  with  words  like  shot,  — ''  He  might  do 
a  meaner  thing  !  " 

Those  words  had  haunted  my  memory,  with  their  impulse  of 
bitterness. 

Then  had  followed  her  beginning  of  confidence  with  me  at 
Dover ;  when  she  had  said  those  odd  things  about  Jacob  and 
Rachel ;  and  burst  out  upon  herself  suddenly  for  talking  "  hate 
fully  ; "  then  her  rest  in  the  resolve  to  do  nothing  except  as  she 
was  certain  sure  of  truth  ;  and  last,  so  lately,  the  showing  of  her 
letters  to  me,  and  her  almost  happy  hopefulness  at  Harry's  ac 
quiescence,  even,  that  she  should  "  break  the  crumbs  "  for  him  ! 
Her  sudden  faith  in  the  secret  of  life  and  sympathy  that  she  had 
discovered ;  that  it  was  not  so  much  people's  finding  wholly  in 
each  other,  as  finding  joyfully  together.  They  would  come  to 
things,  and  to  help  in  understanding  them,  and  they  would  bring 
all  to  one  another. 

And  now,  —  last  evening,  — "  friends  were  the  best  things  ; 
the  very  riches  of  life  !  " 


INCIDENT.  263 

What  could  I  have  said,  when  she  only  followed  that  with,  — 
"  I  am  so  glad  I  have  known  you,  Miss  Patience !  " 

Truly  a  friend  is  the  best  thing ;  should  it  not  therefore  be 
the  nearest  ?  Ought  I  not  to  have  said  that  to  her  ? 

No ;  for  it  only  came  to  me  afterward.  I  will  not  take 
thought  for  what  I  should  have  spoken. 

If  Harry  Mackenzie  were  waiting  for  her  with  a  deliberate 
calculating  selfishness,  that  would  be  the  "  meaner  thing  "  that 
would  have  made  it  to  be  all  over  with  her  regard.  That  was 
the  half  glimpse  that  thrust  itself,  shadowly,  upon  her,  and  made 
her  recoil  like  some  high-spirited,  shying  creature.  Then  she 
looked  deeper,  she  thought,  and  found  his  fault  to  be  but  the 
other,  boyish  careless  one,  that  he  did  not  calculate  at  all  ;  that 
he  just  drifted  on,  letting  life  shape  itself  for  him.  And  she 
"  could  not  love  a  boy,  always." 

Saying  the  true  thing  to  him,  —  giving  him  her  own  best 
large  piece  of  living  as  it  came  to  her,  —  she  had  touched,  it 
seemed  to  her,  though  ever  so  lightly,  the  spring  of  a  true  living 
in  him  ;  and  —  "  Barkis  was  willin' !  " 

Ah,  dear,  unfellowed  soothsayer,  whose  sooth  sharpens  its 
finest  point  with  fun,  —  how  far  did  you  see  after  your  own 
cunning  probing,  or  how  far  did  you  reach  into  life  only  by  that 
instinct  of  things  which  discerning,  keenly,  one  quick  thread  and 
following  it,  cannot  run  amiss  of  all  it  parallels  ? 

So  she  was  letting  herself  be  happy,  —  fancying  herself  quite 
'x>ntent  ;  perhaps  truly  growing  so,  who  knows  ?  Holding  her 
self  steadfast,  and  making  herself  rich,  gladly,  that  she  might 
turn  and  bestow  her  riches  again.  Would  there  be  seven  years 
of  this  rare  compound  interest,  also,  laying  up  for  him  ?  How 
could  his  two  hands  —  his  boy's  hands  —  hold  it,  when  it  should 
be  all  poured  in  ? 

Can  people  put  heart  and  soul  at  interest  so,  and  not  have 
the  bank  break,  sometimes,  as  money  banks  do  ? 

There  are  women,  I  know,  in  whom  ordinary,  narrowing  pas 
sion  is  the  last  thing  that  wakes ;  to  whom  the  first  interest  in 
life  comes  in  the  vision  of  its  true  interest  ;  who  are  happy  — 
ind  happy  only  —  if  they  can  grasp  its  best  theory,  and  assure 
'hemselves  that  Jhey  are  following  its  right  meanings. 


264  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

Does  passion,  therefore,  wake  in  them  the  more  fiercely  and 
fatally  if  it  come  late  —  after  obstacle  or  mistake  ? 

I  do  not  believe  it,  necessarily  ;  for  such  an  organization  will 
only  be  satisfied  then,  with  high  denial. 

It  is  they  who  make  selfish  obstacle,  in  vain  hurry,  who  wake 
afterward  as  they  fancy,  to  their  "deeper  nature,"  which  is 
truly  but  their  deeper  selfishness. 

Margaret  sat  quite  happy,  radiantly  content,  this  morning, 
between  her  "  friends  " ;  side  by  side  with  Edith  and  General 
Rushleigh  ;  face  to  face  with  me,  whom  I  am  sure  she  loves. 
Yes,  and  Emery  Ann,  also  ;  the  plain,  good  woman  commends 
herself  to  Margaret's  own  strong,  original,  honest  nature ;  her 
Yankee-brightness,  too,  matches  pleasantly  the  young  girl's  more 
cultured  quaintness. 

Mrs.  Regis  was  on  the  platform  at  Lausanne.  There  was  a 
general,  warm  greeting.  Companion's  faces  are  good  in  these 
lands  where  human  creatures  are  only  "  foreigners." 

I  had  been  tracing  the  hidden  thread  of  one  experience ;  of 
this  other,  in  the  same  meanwhile,  what  was  I  to  know  ? 

The  road  turned  away,  upward,  from  the  Lake ;  climbing  the 
hills,  and  traversing  high  table-lands  among  them  toward  Bern. 
"We  dined  there,  and  waited  for  the  train  to  Thun. 

We  were  sorry  not  to  stay ;  it  seems  dreadful  to  say  that  we 
saw,  —  at  least  Emery  Ann  and  I,  —  really  nothing  of  this 
lovely  old  town  and  the  scenery  it  commands ;  but  we  were 
very  tired,  and  somebody  must  stay  by  "  the  things." 

The  others  walked  out  with  General  Rushleigh,  and  came 
back  in  an  aggravation  of  delight.  The  old  buildings,  the 
arcades,  the  bears,  the  Alp-tips  —  that  blaze  up  in  the  twilight 
with  the  wonderful  "  Alp-gliinen,"  —  "  Why,  one  could  stay  here 
weeks  !  "  cried  Edith,  telling  them  over. 

"  Yes,"  said  Emery  Ann  placidly,  strapping  her  shawl,  "  and 
then  again,  one  could  n't !  " 

"  We'll  go  into  the  Alp-glow,"  I  said,  consolingly. 

At  Thun,  we  stepped  on  board  the  little  steamer  that  runs 
down  to  Spiez,  and  connects  ;with  the  train  to  Interlachen.  It 
rained  hard ;  we  had  met  the  fogs  on  the  way^  we  sat  on  the 


INCIDENT.  265 

deck  in  waterproofs,  under  a  dripping  awning,  and  saw  the  mists 
surge  about  us  where  we  knew  were  the  great,  invisible  "  Horns  " 
of  many  prefixes ;  where,  again,  were  the  peaks  of  the  Eiger 
and  the  Monch,  and  the  solemn  whiteness  of  the  Jungfrau. 
Nothing  of  all  could  we  discern,  though  they  were  all  about  us  ; 
nothing  but  the  darkening  water  and  the  rushing  vapor  and  the 
blind  wall  of  the  rain.  But  we  could  wait;  we  were  going 
among  them. 

We  had  to  descend  into  the  close  little  cabin,  as  the  evening 
came  on ;  it  was  wholly  dark  when  we  arrived  at  Spiez  ;  we 
followed  the  line  of  wet  and  weary  passengers  that  trailed  on 
shore  and  into  the  railway  carriages ;  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
beautiful  new  car,  brilliantly  adorned,  and  with  a  second  story, 
reached  by  a  spiral  stair,  where  in  pleasant  weather  people  may 
ride  in  the  open  air,  and  look  up  among  the  mountains  whose 
dark  sides  and  overhanging  forests,  deeper-outlined  in  the  murky 
shadows,  we  were  just  conscious  of  as  we  rushed  along. 

General  Rushleigh  took  the  nicest,  kindest  care  of  us.  Hav 
ing  him,  we  found  that  we  could  not  have  got  on  without  him  ; 
one  discovers  that,  by  having,  in  many  things.  And  it  is  true ; 
it  is  not  the  velvet  sense  that  comes  of  super-comfort ;  the 
providing  and  the  necessity  arise  together.  We  women  had 
managed  splendidly  alone ;  we  should  have  managed,  somehow, 
here ;  but  the  managing  is,  after  all,  very  much  the  finding 
things  managed.  Jack  Horner  was  a  great  boy ;  mankind  does 
wonders  with  terrestrial  material ;  but  the  plum  was  in  the  pud 
ding  all  the  same,  or  it  would  n't  have  come  to  anybody's  thumb. 
I  think  I  grow  more  and  more  meekly  conscious,  as  I  live  on, 
that  the  right  thing  waits  at  nearly  every  turn,  and  that  "  get 
ting  through  the  world,"  which  people  are  apt  to  speak  of  as  if 
they  had  pioneered  it,  is  simply  finding  the  world,  —  even  each 
one's  particular  sphere  of  circumstance,  —  abundantly  well  laid 
out  and  engineered  already.  There  is  no  wilderness  without  its 
blaze  and  trail. 

"  What  should  we  have  done,  if  it  had  not  been  for  this  or 
that  ?  "  we  say.  I  cannot  parse  that  sentence  to  save  my  life  ; 
but  I  suppose  it  means,  " if  this  or  that  had  not  been  for  it" 
And  they  always  are. 


266  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

We  went  to  the  Hotel  Jungfrau. 

Crowds  of  people  again,  a  great,  magnificent  caravanserai ; 
brilliant  table  d'hote ;  long  bills  of  fare,  and  delicate  courses. 
A  whole  street  of  the  like  public  houses ;  shops ;  gay  prome 
nades  ;  a  green  valley-basin  made  into  a  gay  square  with  park 
walks,  on  which  face  villas  and  pensions ;  dress,  show,  watering- 
place  gossip,  idleness,  and  the  rest,  just  as  at  Saratoga  or  any 
where  else  where  people  have  spoiled  things  ;  the  pure,  distant 
Jungfrau  looking  in  with  a  pale  scorn,  beckoning  motionlessly. 
This  was  Interlachen. 

We  had  to  spend  the  Sunday  there.  And  we  were  glad  to  get 
away  on.  Monday  morning. 


MISTS;   AND   SIGNS.  267 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MISTS;  AND  SIGNS. 


....  Two  carriages  again.  Mrs.  Regis,  Margaret,  General 
Rushleigh,  in  one  ;  Emery  Ann,  Edith,  and  I,  in  the  other. 

An  uncertain  morning,  lovely  in  uncertainty,  like  that  in 
which  we  went  up  the  Flegere  from  Chamounix. 

The  velvet  green  of  near  hills,  the  sombre  richness  of  ever 
green  heights,  the  smile  and  shine  of  brook  and  meadow,  the 
flush  of  orchards,  all  brilliant  with  the  wet  of  undried  rains  and 
the  flashing  struggle  of  coming  sunlight,  —  these  made  up  the 
picture-scene  into  which  we  went  forth  rejoicing  toward  the  val 
ley  of  "  nothing  but  springs." 

A  great  cliff,  just  like  a  giant  tower,  stands  at  its  opening. 
Battlements,  turrets,  broken  masonry,  are  all  outlined  as  if 
shaped  by  human  hands  and  then  softened  by  ages  of  beautiful 
decay.  Tender  vines  sway  from  its  crevices,  and  creep  about 
its  summits.  It  glooms  with  a  great  shadow  over  the  far-down 
roadway.  You  wind  under  its  foot,  and  pass  in,  as  by  some  un 
spoken  countersign,  to  the  sweet  depths  beyond. 

There,  green  Alps  rise  up,  whose  mighty  slopes  stretch  high 
on  either  hand  as  you  go,  with  shelf  after  shelf  of  soft,  bright 
pasture,  swell  beyond  swell  of  tenderest,  most  glowing  verdancy, 
until  crowns  of  forest  meet  the  clouds.  Hamlets  sprinkled  over 
their  terraces  —  herds  feeding  on  their  vast  bosoms  —  innumer 
able  water-courses  springing  out  of  their  clefts  and  falling  down 
down,  down,  —  meeting  and  mingling,  —  dripping,  glittering, 
shattering  in  mist ;  here  an  outbreak  of  rock,  there  a  piece  of 
felled  woodland,  with  huge  trunks  lying  like  Titan  jackstraws, 
among  which  stand  the  woodmen's  cottages  ;  a  whole  world  of 
wild,  delicious  life  and  surrounding,  leaned  up  on  edge,  as  it 
were  for  you  to  see  the  whole  of! 


268  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Again,  you  find  yourself  between  unbroken  splendors  of  green 
and  silver,  where  the  whole  mountains  are  brilliant  with  vivid, 
soft  color,  like  velvet  heaped  sumptuously  in  its  own  heavy 
folds,  between  which  drop  the  water-loops  and  fringes,  as  if  the 
great  Queen  Nature  sat  somewhere  upon  her  throne,  below 
which  you  could  only  look  up  at  the  robe  of  her,  gathered  royal- 
rich  about  her,  and  ribboned  with  white-streaming  cataracts. 

"  I  wish  it  would  n't  come  into  my  head,"  said  Emery  Ann, 
just  as  I  was  not  quite  thinking,  but  feeling  out,  this  likeness. 

I  put  the  indispensable  monosyllable  of  question  :  "  What  ?  " 

"  The  thing  it  looks  like.  A  woman's  gown,  hunched  up 
fashionable,  and  trimmed  and  sashed.  It 's  ridiculous  ! " 

"  Why  not  think  the  other  looks  like  this  ?  As  even  foolish 
ness  has  to  look  like  something  real,  and  nothing  with  a  grace 
in  it  is  ever  done  first  in  millinery  ?  " 

"  They  never  came  here  to  get  it,  though,"  said  Emery  Ann, 
morosely. 

"  They  did  n't  know  where  they  got  it.  But  it  was  some 
where,  or  the  fancy  of  it  never  would  have  come  into  their  de 
signs.  Can't  you  feel  more  patience  with  the  fashions,  finding 
there 's  a  real  idea  behind  them  ?  " 

"  No,  they  've  no  business  to  spoil  with  a  nonsense,  they  don't 
know  what.  It 's  graven  images."  And  Emery  Ann  sat  back 
into  her  corner  and  shut  her  eyes. 

Not  for  long,  though.  Having  entered  her  protest,  and  ab 
stracted  herself  from  the  displeasing  suggestion  of  that  which  had 
profaned  it  beforehand,  she  came  back  into  the  irresistible  beauty, 
and  gazed  up  into  the  heart  of  it,  with  a  half  rapt,  half  deter 
mined  look  upon  her  face,  as  if  she  had  cast  Satan  behind  her, 
and  would  keep  him  there,  by  sheer  straining  into  the  angelic 
vision. 

I  would  not  interrupt  her  then  ;  but  I  told  her  of  it  afterward. 

"  I  presume  likely  I  did,"  she  answered.  "  You  can  choke 
down  the  hiccups,  and  get  your  regular  breath  again  ;  and  you 
can  stop  thinking,  and  go  off  into  a  heavenly  sleep.  You  can 
put  anything  out  of  your  mind,  that  you  have  a  mind  to,  —  and 
let  the  other  thing  come  in  !  " 

"  Oh,  look  there  ! "  cried  Edith.  "  There  is  the.  Dust-Brook, 
that  comes  down  a  thousand  feet! 


MISTS;   AND   SIGNS.  269 

It  was  away  forward,  at  the  right.  We  were  just  turning 
from  the  road.  It  was  a  flash  from  the  mountain  face,  —  a 
down-pour  of  white-light,  —  a  shimmer  into  fine  sparkles,  —  a 
melting  into  nothing,  hundreds  of  feet  before  it  reached  the 
ground.  It  never  did  reach  it,  altogether.  It  floated  away, 
everywhere,  upon  the  air.  The  invisible  drops  of  it  were  upon 
our  own  faces.  It  was  the  Staubbach. 

At  the  same  moment,  we  had  all  turned  in  at  the  little  inn« 
yard  of  the  hostelry  that  takes  its  name. 

Here  was  where  we  should  get  horses  and  guides  to  go  over 
the  Wengern  Alp. 

We  sat  in  the  baptism  of  the  far,  unpalpable  spray,  and  looked 
at  the  lovely  torrent,  while  the  men  got  the  beasts  and  saddles 
ready. 

I  don't  know,  now,  why  we  all  took  to  the  saddle  without  a 
question  ;  perhaps  because  we  perceived  no  hint  or  indication  of 
other  mode  ;  perhaps  we  took  for  granted  that  the  Wengern 
Alp  could  only  be  done  on  horseback  ;  or  Emery  Ann  and  I 
were  fired  by  some  inexplicable  youthful  ardor,  which  impelled 
us  this  day  to  do  as  others  did.  I  do  not  know,  even,  if  we 
could  have  had  chairs  if  we  had  wished  for  them.  All  I  do 
know  is  that  we  found  ourselves  lifted  up  into  the  roomy  railed 
seats  which  we  fancied  would  be  like  chairs  on  horseback ;  never 
calculating  that  the  very -roominess,  — as  roominess  is  sometimes, 
when  one  cannot  keep  an  exact  point  of  balance  in  the  midst  of 
whatever  margin,  —  might  be  rather  a  snare  and  a  distress  than 
a  well-being ;  and  that  while  our  chief  guide  and  General  Rush- 
leigh  carefully  looked  to  girths  and  stirrups,  we  settled  our  skirts 
and  picked  up  our  bridles  without  a  word,  and  were  presently 
moving  after  the  others  with  that  strange  feeling  which  the  un 
accustomed  rider  has,  of  being  mounted  on  an  earthquake,  that 
might  topple  one  off  with  the  next  heave,  or  part  its  wave  in  the 
middle  and  swallow  one  down. 

We  descended  behind  the  village,  into  the  low  ravine  among 
the  little  watermills  and  the  barns,  and  emerged  upon  the  ragged 
hillside  where  begins  the  path  across  the  vast  mountain. 

Mrs.  Regis  looked  almost  like  a   girl  this  morning,  in   her 


270  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

purple-dark  dress,  neat-fitting  her  perfect  figure,  her  little  trav 
eling  hat  with  its  line  of  white  crimped  border  under  the  brim, 
and  its  plain  folded  bands  of  heavy  silk  knotted  at  the  back  and 
falling  into  one  broad  loop  and  end,  —  her  color  fresh  with 
pleasure  and  the  mountain  air,  and  a  kind  of  smile-break  light 
ening  her  face,  such  as  ordinarily  lights  a  woman's  face  but  one 
short,  early  time  of  her  life,  before  it  fulfills  its  half  foretelling  in 
a  declared  sunshine,  or  fades  beneath  the  dropping  over  of  the 
grayness  that  is  to  be  her  sober  day. 

She  rode  first  along  the  narrow  way,  which  could  only  be 
traversed  singly,  —  the  chief  guide  leading  her  horse;  then 
came  General  Rushleigh,  then  Margaret,  Emery  Ann,  Edith 
and  I.  Three  men  walked  beside  us,  one  of  whom  held  my 
bridle,  as  being  last,  and  the  other  two  were  near  the  other 
horses'  heads,  ready  with  a  hand  as  it  might  be  wanted. 

We  came  to  the  ascent  that  realizes  the  first  great  height 
above  the  valley. 

I  do  not  know  how  Emery  Ann  felt  in  this  beginning  of  our 
progress ;  but  I  know  the  awful  misgivings  that  thrilled  my 
own  mind,  and  by  them  I  could  understand  what  happened 
shortly  afterward  to  her. 

I  should  never  keep  on  the  saddle,  —  I  was  drifting  helplessly 
about  in  it,  and  was  as  likely  to  drift  off  as  any  way ;  the  saddle 
would  never  keep  on  the  horse,  —  I  thought  I  felt  it  twisting 
and  slipping  as  the  creature  strained  and  scrambled  up  the 
broken  track ;  the  horse  himself  would  never  keep  on  the  path 
along  those  dizzy  verges  ! 

A  terrible  riot  got  possession  of  my  nerves ;  could  I  endure 
this  all  day  ?  Could  I  endure  it  another  minute  ?  What  was 
that  corner  out  there  the  end  of? 

We  found  ourselves  creeping  along  a  brink  toward  a  sharp 
turn  whose  angle  seemed  to  project  sheer  into  space.  Mrs. 
Regis's  horse  passed  it,  and  went  —  I  could  not  see,  nor  argue 
where. 

Would  there  be  more  of  this  ?     Would  there  be  worse  ? 

I  was  ready  to  shriek  out ;  to  say  it  was  too  frightful,  too 
impossible  for  me ;  but  how  could  I  turn  back  the  whole  party  ? 
And  if  I  did,  what  then  ? 


MISTS;   AND   SIGNS.  271 

While  I  struggled  and  suffered,  Emery  Ann  did  it. 

"  I  don't  care  !  I  can't !  It  don't  signify !  "  she  cried,  sud 
denly,  and  dropped  her  bridle,  clinging  to  the  saddle-rail  in  pure 
panic. 

Her  horse  stopped.  One  of  the  men  took  the  bridle,  but 
the  others  before  her  stopped  also,  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
and  to  soothe  her.  Edith's  horse,  checked  so  suddenly  in  his 
trained  following,  backed  a  step.  My  man  sprang  forward  and 
seized  him. 

There  was  space  enough  for  me,  for  I  was  some  paces  be 
hind,  and  I  suppose  I  was  safe ;  but  if  our  little  party  had  been 
Pharaoh's  host,  floundering  suddenly  in  the  Red  Sea,  I  should 
not  have  felt  that  doom  any  nearer  than  my  excited  fancy  felt 
this.  If  a  horse  jogging  innocently  out  of  an  inn-yard,  is  a  live 
earthquake,  what  do  four  horses  seem  like,  haunch  above  head, 
on  a  steep  mountain  path,  all  halted  and  huddled,  and  stepping 
bewilderedly  together  in  narrow  perilous  space  ? 

And  there  was  peril,  though  I  was,  for  the  moment,  just  out 
side  of  it. 

The  guides  shouted  in  French,  to  hold  the  path ;  to  let  the 
horses  follow ;  they  had  not  the  custom  to  be  turned !  For, 
actually,  Margaret  and  General  Rushleigh  were  trying  to  come 
back  to  us ! 

"  We  will  give  it  up,"  I  heard  Margaret  say,  gently,  "  if  you 
are  frightened." 

And  at  that  instant  something  crumbled,  rolled  ;  there  was  a 
Swiss  execration  ;  a  man  and  horse  scrambling  together ;  a 
second  of  time  in  which  I  hardly  knew  what  happened. 

I  saw  the  hind  hoofs  of  her  horse  just  grasping  the  very  edge ; 
I  heard  one  word  from  General  Rushleigh,  —  "  Margaret !  " 
And  then  the  guide  had  dragged  the  animal  forward,  angrily 
ordering  General  Rushleigh  to  proceed ;  and,  silenced  by  the 
real  horror,  helpless  in  the  environment  of  danger,  we  gave  our 
selves  up  to  what  must  be,  and  were  led  around  the  cragged 

L  OO 

point, — the  Rubicon  of  our  undertaking. 

Up  above,  we  found  ourselves  within  ramparts,  as  it  were ; 
the  path  receding  from  the  edge,  and  bolstered  on  either  hand 
by  irregular  knaps  and  bosses  of  the  mountain,  among  which 
we  felt  sheltered  and  comforted. 


272  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

Mrs.  Regis  was  waiting,  wondering.  Her  guide  had  turned 
to  come  to  us ;  but  our  whole  panic  and  its  hazard  had  been 
the  thing  of  scarcely  more  than  a  moment,  and  he  did  not  reach 
the  turn  before  we  appeared. 

Emery  Ann  said  not  a  word.  She  was  horribly  pained  and 
ashamed  at  what  she  had  done  ;  and  until  we  came  out  upon 
something  like  an  open  moorland  space,  nobody  ventured  to 
infringe  upon  the  order  of  pur  marshaling,  or  to  check  the 
movement  of  our  little  file. 

But,  as  we  wound  away,  over  what  seemed  a  great  globe-sur 
face  of  the  upheaved  mass,  almost  level  in  its  largeness,  and 
there  was  room  for  breasting  or  grouping,  General  Rushleigh 
dropped  back  beside  Emery  Ann. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,  General,"  I  heard  her  say.  "  I  can't 
make  up  my  mind  yet,  to  speak  to  myself." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Tudor !  Do  you  think  a  soldier  does  n't  know 
what  a  scare  is  ?  " 

Emery  Ann  looked  up  at  him.  "  I  thought  it  was  just  ex 
actly  his  business  not  to  know,"  she  said. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  his  very  first  business  to  get  a  scare, 
and  bis  second  to  stand  it.  You  have  done  both ;  you  have 
fairly  entered  on  your  campaign." 

"  And  a  pretty  one  it  might  have  been  ! "  was  all  she  vouch 
safed  of  relenting  to  herself. 

"  That  was  our  business.  We  were  the  leaders.  We  ought 
to  have  known  better." 

"  Um  !  "  said  Emery  Ann. 

"  Is  that  saddle  comfortable  ?  "  inquired  he.  "  Is  the  horse 
tolerably  easy  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Emery  Ann.  "  But  then  I  'm  like  the 
old  woman  in  the  railroad  collision  who  thought  that  was  the 
way  the  cars  always  stopped.  I  presume  there  are  saddles  and 
horses  in  the  world  that  are  easier.  But  this  is  the  one  I  've 
got  to  go  on.  I  can  put  up  with  that." 

He  looked  doubtful.  But  he  saw  that  she  had  regained  an 
equilibrium  of  confidence,  and  he  knew  that  all  other  depended 
upon  that.  He  would  not  disturb  it.  He  began  talking  with 
her  of  the  wonder  and  beauty  of  the  view,  —  which  I  just  recol 
lect,  Rose,  I  am  not  giving  you  at  all. 


MISTS;   AND   SIGNS.  273 

We  were  climbing  up  into  what  we  had  seen  from  below. 
We  were  among  those  grand  folds  and  convolutions  of  the 
mountain  shape,  and  leaving  beneath  us,  —  lovely  in  the  far 
depth  and  the  wide,  including  vision,  —  the  valley  and  the  little 
river,  the  village,  the  upper  hamlets,  the  rich  green  pastures,  the 
waterfalls,  the  clearings  and  the  lumber  heaps ;  and  above  us,  in 
broken  glimpses, — "for  the  mists  were  still  hanging  more  or  less 
heavily  among  them,  —  we  were  coming  upon  the  bare,  uplifted 
majesties  of  the  changeless  peaks. 

Away,  away  down,  across  the  Lauterbrunnen,  hung  the  little 
silver  thread  of  the  Staubbach  against  the  cliff. 

Just  above  us  was  the  spread  of  the  Alp-mass  we  traversed, 
broken  in  great  waves  of  turfy  ground  or  lichened  rock  ;  hav 
ing,  when  the  dropping  vapors  shut  away  the  encircling  sum 
mits,  its  own  hemisphere  and  horizon  like  a  separate  world.  I 
keep  repeating  this.  I  shall  say  it  again  presently.  Nothing 
else  gives  any  word  or  image  of  meaning  for  these  Alpine 
heights  and  breadths  and  solitudes. 

We  rode  through  a  pleasant  fir-wood.  General  Rushleigh 
was  by  Mrs.  Regis,  now.  He  had  not  spoken  to  Margaret 
more  than  half  a  dozen  words,  —  of  kind,  courteous  inquiry,  — 
since  he  uttered  that  one  irrepressible  exclamation  of  her  un 
prefaced  name.  He  did  not  apologize  for  that,  or  allude  to  itnn 
any  way.  It  was  perfect  gentlemanly  breeding  in  him;  the 
excuse  was  patent  of  itself;  to  offer  another  would  be  the  lib 
erty.  But  I  wondered  if  that  were  all. 

I  don't  suppose  I  know  much  about  a  man's  nature ;  but  per 
haps  what  a  woman  would  feel  in  a  man's  —  a  gentle  man's  — 
place,  is  not  far  from  it. 

I  think,  if  I  had  been  General  Rushleigh,  and  had  said  the 
name  of  a  girl  that  way,  and  the  girl  was  Margaret  Regis,  —  I 
should  have  found  out  something  of  myself  in  the  saying  it,  or 
directly  after,  when  I  came  to  think.  I  should  have  found  my 
self  face  to  face  with  a  thought  of  her  in  my  secret  mind,  which 
took  no  preface  or  ceremony ;  and  if  my  unconventionalism  dis 
turbed  me  for  a  moment  as  a  thing  to  be  accounted  for  or  par 
doned,  it  would  only  be  to  reveal  to  me  by  the  unwarrant,  how 
strangely  sweet  the  warrant  might  be.  And  the  fine  tact  of  my 
18 


274  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

silence  would  have  been  the  fine  counterpart  of  my  uttered  im 
pulse. 

But,  then,  I  was  not  General  Rushleigh ;  and  he  may  have 
been  thinking  of  no  such  thing. 

I  fancied  in  all  his  intercourse  now,  with  Margaret,  he  re 
membered  —  to  his  restraint  or  his  protection  —  the  half  show 
ing  he  had  had  of  her  position ;  he  did  not  let  himself  regard 
her  as  quite  free  to  his  approach.  This  threw  him,  now  that 
our  party  was  reunited,  a  good  deal  with  her  mother. 

Or,  did  I  take  cause  for  consequence  ?  Was  it  the  friendship 
and  attraction  of  Mrs.  Regis,  after  all,  into  whose  circle,  merely, 
Margaret  came,  and  as  her  child,  had  come  to  be  "Margaret"  in 
his  thought  ? 

Things  have  to  be  very  plain  to  me,  before  I  can  cease  to  see 
two  possible  aspects  of  them ;  and  the  more  one  look  is  the  look 
I  might  rejoice  in,  the  more  the  other  thrusts  itself,  like  some 
distorted  vraisemblance,  upon  my  recognition. 

Margaret  had  the  demeanor,  to-day,  of  what  I  can  only  call  a 
beautiful  virgin  content. 

There  was  a  soft  glow  that  had  come  in  eyes  and  face,  after 
that  dangerous  moment,  and  the  involuntary  expression  of  Gen 
eral  Rushleigh's  solicitude  that  it  called  forth ;  there  was  a 
gentle  silence  mating  his,  and  asking  no  word  of  him  to  take 
back  or  explain  a  word  that  wanted,  neither,  anything  different 
or  more  to  follow.  Not  even  that  itself  should  ever  be  re 
peated. 

A  girl  lingers  so  much  longer  than  a  man  in  the  lovely  gates 
of  friendship,  before  she  finds  to  what  wonderful  temple  they 
open.  And  if  Margaret  thought  this  was  friendship,  and  that 
other  love,  no  wonder  at  the  pure  exultation  with  which  she  had 
said,  that  "friends  were  best  of  all."  No  wonder  she  counted 
them  for  the  joint  riches  of  Harry's  life  and  hers  that  was  to  bo 
lived  together. 

Only,  she  did  not  know,  —  and  who  could  tell  her  ?  that  that 
life  once  begun,  it  would  bind  her  to  its  own  track,  from  which 
all  other  certain  companionship  must  fall  loose,  or  drift  and 
speed  away  on  its  different  line  and  groove  ;  that  a  woman  who 
has  a  husband  will  find,  if  she  is  a  nobly  honest  wife,  that  she 


MISTS;   AND   SIGNS.  275 

cannot  have  any  other  man-friend  of  year  out  and  year  in ;  there 
can  be  for  her,  thenceforth,  only  one  having  and  holding.  The 
rest,  though  they  be  companionships  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
must  stand  apart,  —  must  pass  and  not  linger,  —  till  the  king 
dom  of  heaven  shall  come. 

We  followed  the  bridle-path,  which  seemed  also  a  kind  of 
pasture  track,  up  and  along  the  immense  upreaching  bluffs  and 
downs ;  the  fine  vapor  lay  around  us,  a  little  way  off  always, 
except  at  our  right,  where  rose  the  Jungfrau,  to  us  invisible. 
Here  it  seemed  gathered  in  the  great  abyss  between  us  and  the 
mountain,  and  to  creep  close  against  our  path,  rolled  over  upon 
the  lesser  Alp  as  the  tide  surges  upon  a  rock.  Behind  the  mys 
tery  of  it,  we  heard  the  voice  of  the  avalanches,  —  a  dull,  thun 
derous  roar,  uttering  its  arcana  in  the  unseen. 

I  shall  never  know  now  how  the  Jungfrau  would  have  looked, 
face  to  face,  in  her  unclouded  queenliness.  But  I  shall  always 
know  what  I  felt  near  me.  —  nearer,  doubtless,  than  my  eyes 
would  have  made  it,  —  behind  that  throbbing,  swaying  curtain 
of  gray  mist. 

People  have  said  to  me  since,  when  I  have  told  them  that  we 
crossed  the  Wengern  Alp  and  never  saw  the  Jungfrau :  "  Oh, 
what  a  horrible  disappointment !  What  an  irreparable  loss ! "  I 
did  not  feel  it  quite  like  a  disappointment.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  profoundly  conscious  of  that  tremendous  vicinity, 
and  should  have  been  so  if  I  had  not  been  told  of  it ;  as  one  is 
conscious,  in  tho  dark,  of  a  human  presence,  or  knows  by  some 
fine,  unlistened  sound,  some  untraced  difference  of  air-pulsations, 
the  nearness  ot  a  large  body  to  the  touch. 

It  was  the  feeling  of  the  worlds  again.  As  if  one  could  stand 
on  the  palpable  convex  of  the  globe,  and  see  another  huge  convex 
float  over  against  it  with  a  mere  blue  crevasse  of  space  between. 
This  was  what  I  half  imagined  I  should  behold  if  that  veil  had 
lifted  ;  but  the  white  apparition  might  have  drawn  itself  back 
into  a  different,  remoter  attitude,  and  defined  itself  clearly  into 
just  a  very  grand  and  lofty  ice  mountain,  with  glittering  peaks 
and  spreading  base,  planted  upon  the  same  earth  I  stood  on,  and 
rising  up  into  the  one  small  sky. 

"  I  would  not  give  up  what  I  can  think  about  it,"  I  said  to 


276  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

General  Rushleigh,  when  he  spoke  his  regret  to  me,  for  our  sakea 
who  had  endured  so  much  to  get  here,  —  "I  would  not  give  the 
feeling  of  it  up, — just  over  there,  —  hark!"  —  A  great  ava 
lanche  boomed  into  the  silence.  —  "  For  any  seeing  that  would 
place  and  limit  it." 

"  And  yet  —  if  that  fog  would  only  break  a  little  —  for  one 
moment !  "  said  Margaret. 

"  Yes.     That  ;s  what  we  all  say,"  I  answered  her. 

Only  those  gentle,  shifting  vapors,  that  might  breal?  any 
moment !  Only  that  little  space,  across  which  we  could  feel  the 
Something,  —  real  vast,  close  !  And  from  behind  the  cloud  that 
brooded  between  us,  touching  both,  those  deep  thrills  of  sound, 
felt  more  than  heard,  as  when  an  organ  trembles  in  a  church. 

I  never  thought  of  being  disappointed.  I  only  waited,  for 
what  I  knew  was  there. 

We  turned  at  right  angles  upon  the  culminating  ridge  of  the 
Little,  or  Wengern-Scheideck,  as  we  rode  up  to  the  small  build 
ing  called  the  Hotel  Bellevue. 

Still  we  had  the  gulf  and  the  Presence  on  our  right.  We 
seemed  to  go  out  upon  a  spur,  or  around  a  bend,  and  to  face 
from  it  along  the  length  of  the  ravine.  I  can  only  say  "  seemed," 
—  it  was  all  a  gazing  against  mist,  and  a  placing  in  one's  fancy. 
But  as  we  left  the  little  platform  and  went  in  to  dinner,  the 
mists  were  turning  golden  ;  brightening  and  thinning  into  some 
thing  that  just  made  light  tangible. 

We  were  upon  a  sharp  crest,  whose  line  commanded  the  two 
descents.  The  little  windows  of  the  inn  dining-room  opened  on 
the  one  side  over  the  valley  of  the  Grindelwald,  on  the  other 
against  the  Jungfrau,  with  her  two  peaks  in  the  heavens  and  the 
glaciers  in  her  lap. 

We  found  an  English  gentleman  here,  who  had  been  staying, 
he  told  General  Rushleigh,  nearly  three  weeks. 

"  You  can  see  nothing,"  he  said,  "  in  nine  times  out  of  ten,  by 
just  coming  up  and  over.  Perhaps  at  the  sunset  to-night,  every 
peak  will  be  lighted  up  in  it.  And  the  breaking  away  in  a  fine 
morning  is  something  to  wait  a  month  for.  I  come  here  and 
wait ;  the  Jungfrau  is  not  to  be  compelled." 

Another  confirmation  of  what  I  am  hourly  more  convinced 


MISTS;    AND   SIGNS.  277 

of;  that  a  summer  tour  of  Europe,  —  or  even  of  any  little  bit 
of  it,  —  is  just  like  reading  a  grand  book  by  chapter  headings. 

Mrs.  Regis  and  General  Rushleigk  walked  out  together  from 
the  dinner-table,  to  reconnoitre.  We  did  give  a  thought  to  the 
possibility  of  staying  till  the  morning ;  but  even  the  English 
man  could  promise  us  nothing  in  any  one  twelve  or  twenty-four 
hours  ;  his  creed  was  a  long,  reverent  patience,  and  a  sure,  though 
slow  rewarding. 

We  had  not  weeks  to  give  —  to  take  the  boon  of  rather  ;  we 
could  ill  afford  any  fruitless  delay  and  exposure ;  it  might  be 
wet  for  days,  the  very  hotel-keeper  allowed.  So,  though  we 
recognized  admiringly  the  loyalty  of  our  chance  friend's  faith 
and  purpose,  and  contrasted  his  wise  abiding,  "  still,  in  one 
place,"  with  our  own  uncertain  flitting  after  the  fashion  of  the 
crowd,  —  and  though  the  girls  were  restlessly  eager  at  the  no 
tion  of  the  adventure  of  the  night  here,  —  we  felt  our  final  de 
cision  all  the  while  in  the  background  of  our  thoughts,  and  that 
it  must  be  here  as  it  had  been  at  the  Flegere ;  we  must  take 
such  gift  as  came  to  us  in  the  apportioning  of  days,  even  as  we 
do  in  our  days  upon  the  earth. 

Emery  Ann  put  that  into  the  shape  of  words. 

"  It  may  be  very  fair  weather  in  the  world  by  Nineteen  Hun 
dred  ;  but  it  won't  be  our  time.  We  're  here-to-day-and-gone- 
to-morrow  folks.  It 's  a  comfort,  though,  that  to-morrow  we 
can't  help  being  somewhere,  too  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Margaret ;  "  we  shall  have  other  mountains  to 
morrow.  We  shall  have  the  Great  Scheideck ;  but  —  it  was 
just  this  once  in  all  our  lives  for  the  Jungfrau !  " 

A  shout  came  to  our  ears  from  the  outside. 

"  The  Silberhorn  !     The  Silberhorn  !  " 

General  Rushleigh  looked  in  at  the  door,  and  summoned  us 
hastily. 

We  were  out  on  the  little  plateau  in  an  instant ;  to  see  that 
golden  mist  shimmering,  floating,  stretching,  —  all  but  rending  ; 
and  between  two  clouds  or  folds  of  it,  something  white  in  clear 
sunlightjfar,  far  up  in  the  sky  ;  an  putline,  as  the  new  moon 
outlines  herself ;  only  this  was  of  a  point,  a  luminous  apex, 
from  which  dropped,  to  lose  themselves  in  vapor,  the  side-slopes 
of  its  silver-shadowy  cone. 


278  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

It  was  a  mere  tip,  —  a  pinnacle ;  but  by  the  glory  on  it  we 
could  guess,  could  measure  —  so  much  ! 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  said  Emery  Ann,  slowly.  "  I  know  it 's  all 
there,  now." 

General  Rushleigh  and  Mrs.  Regis  were  side  by  side  in  front 
of  me,  upon  the  rocky  ledge.  Something  is  surely  making  in 
Mrs.  Regis's  nature  which  had  waited  long.  As  she  lifted  rer 
face  to  .that  vision  in  the  heavens,  there  was  a  beauty  of  awe  in 
it,  —  a  speech  of  soul-delight,  —  the  characters  of  which  I  had 
never  seen  it  wear  before  ;  it  grew  quite  radiantly  young  in  the 
new  expression. 

"  It  is  like  a  white  flame,"  I  heard  her  say.  "  Like  the 
tongues  of  light  on  the  foreheads  of  Fra  Angelico's  angels." 

"  It  shines  out  like  a  miracle-sign,"  said  General  Rushleigh  ; 
"  as  the  Cross  shone  out  to  Constantino." 

She  did  not  answer  ;  neither  did  she  move,  visibly  ;  and  yet 
ghe  stood,  or  leaned,  just  a  shade  closer  beside  him.  It  was  as 
if  her  spirit  moved  to  his.  Her  face,  still  uplifted,  held  its  quiet 
rapture ;  her  highest  self  shining  in  it  as  that  highest  peak  of 
the  Jungfrau  gleamed,  pure-radiant,  overhead  ;  glorious  with  be 
ing  shone  upon. 

Her  spirit,  all  unconscious,  made  its  miracle-sign  —  that  per 
haps  all  souls  make  some  time  —  to  me.  After  this,  I  could  not 
slight  her,  ever  so  little,  any  more,  in  my  mind.  After  this, 
whatever,  in  the  little  story  that  is  living  beside  me  I  might  wish 
made  utterly  beautiful,  as  I  could  think  it  possible  to  be,  for 
others,  I  could  never  help  remembering  also  the  beauty  that 
might  be  for  her.  If  not  the  thing  that  draws  her,  may  she  yet 
be  drawn  to  possess  that  which  is  behind  the  drawing,  —  whose 
unknown  fulfilling  is  the  divine  gravitation  to  which  she  really 


moves 


General  Rushleigh's  eyes  dropped  for  an  instant  toward  her 
from  their  upward  looking.  It  was  to  say  something,  I  thought ; 
but  the  sign  in  her  face  stopped  him.  It  held  his  eyes  in  a 
glance  that  magnetized  her  own  to  meet  it. 

They  may  never  look  Jike  that,  again,  to  each  other,  in  all 
their  lives  ;  they  may  never  come  so  near  each  other.  But  will 
Mrs.  Regis  think  of  that  ? 


MISTS;   AND   SIGNS.  279 

She  was  back  in  herself  again  ;  I  could  see  the  earth-con 
sciousness  shut  swiftly  over  the  spirit's  self-forgetting. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  faint,  white  mist  fell  like  an  eye 
lid  over  the  glory  that  had  looked  upon  us  from  above.  The 
Silberhorn  had  vanished. 


280  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

THE  SCHKECKHORN. 


....  WE  mounted  our  horses,  and  began  to  come  down  over 
the  steep  crest. 

Mrs.  Regis's  face  was  now  the  face  of  a  beautiful  woman, 
with  a  flash  of  glad  triumph  in  it.  She  looked  royally  happy, 
as  she  sat  easily  erect  upon  her  saddle,  her  horse  following  the 
steep  bends  with  dropped  head  and  careful,  tentative  steps,  his 
shoulders  rising  and  his  crupper  crouching,  as  he  held  back  in 
the  pitchy,  broken  way,  and  reached  his  forefeet  down  alter 
nately  as  if  he  were  descending  stairs.  She  had  not  a  thought 
of  fear.  Had  anything  supreme  cast  it  out  ? 

She  led  us  all,  and  gave  us  all  confidence.  Emery  Ann  had 
vibrated  almost  to  the  extreme  of  daring,  from  the  opposite 
point  of  panic-fright ;  she  had  got  started  next,  by  some  chance, 
and  General  Rushleigh  came  behind  her.  I  was  last,  and  could 
see  each  one  of  the  party  as  they  successively  turned  the  irreg 
ular  angles,  except  as  they  dropped  for  a  moment  from  sight  in 
the  abrupt  declivities. 

It  was  a  great,  rocky  waste ;  torn  into  gullies  by  rushing 
rains,  —  by  streams  from  the  tempest-torrents  that  broke  upon 
the  cloudy  ridge,  and  parted  there  to  find  their  separate  ways  to 
the  green  valleys  of  Lauterbrunnen  and  the  Grindelwald.  The 
sun  was  already  lowering  behind  the  mists,  and  our  daylight 
would  be  short  enough. 

Suddenly  a  cry  from  a  guide,  repeated  by  the  others,  — 

«  The  Eiger !     The  Eiger !  " 

The  vapor  had  grown  so  thin  that  it  hardly  seemed  to  veil 
anything ;  it  cheated  us  into  absolute  unconsciousness  of  the 
great  shapes  about  us.  Unlike  the  rolling  surges  behind  which 


THE   SCHRECKHORN.  281 

we  had  felt  the  awfulness  of  the  Jungfrau,  it  had  resolved  itself 
to  a  mere  apparent  dimness  of  far  atmosphere.  We  might 
fancy  that  we  looked  distantly  enough,  but  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  distance ;  when  all  ak  once,  out  from  the  pale 
gray  blank,  a  grand,  mighty  shoulder,  white-robed  and  shining, 
leaned  right  over  us ! 

Its  sweep  was  as  if  it  ran  into  the  outlines  of  an  invisible 
outstretched  arm  ;  it  was  defined  above  an  infinite  pure  breast 
that  melted  softly  away  into  the  unseen.  Like  the  illumined 
tip  of  the  Silberhorn,  it  projected  itself  forth  as  from  a  spirit- 
realm  into  the  sphere  of  a  material  vision  ;  a  part-showing  of 
that  which  might  never  all  be  shown. 

It  was  a  prayer-glimpse  :  it  was  what  shines  and  leans  above 
the  soul  in  the  great  Secret  Place,  when  she  dares  not  look  up, 
but  feels  herself  creep  close  under  the  Arm  and  to  the  Heart 
of  the  Allfather ! 

That  was  the  first.  Other  great  lines  lit  up  with  shimmering 
flashes,  as  lightning  shows  the  edges  of  mountainous  cloud. 
Other  white  brows  parted  the  dimness.  We  saw  the  clear, 
rounded  summit  of  the  Monch,  intensely  brilliant  with  its  sun- 
drawn  edge.  To  all  these  wonders  we  gazed  up,  quite  away 
from  earth,  toward  which  their  phantoms  faded. 

They  were  gone  again,  and  we  could  not  say  that  any  curtain 
had  closed  between  ;  there  was  only  the  soft  impalpable  gray 
that  hindered  a  blank  sky  from  being  blue.  Out  of  space,  and 
into  space  again,  they  shone  forth  and  receded. 

Would  the  positive,  outright  whole  have  been  better  to 
us  than  these  transfigured  glimpses  ?  I  felt  blissfully  content 
with  the  thing  given.  By  the  lesser  that  is  manifest,  the  eter 
nal  and  invisible  is  understood ;  even  so  in  the  creation  is  made 
clear  the  very  power  and  Godhead. 

We  had  to  dismount  after  a  time.  It  is  the  custom  always  in 
the  most  precipitous  part.  They  had  not  told  us  of  it,  and  we 
were  ill  able,  some  of  us,  for  the  additional  fatigue. 

We  had  to  walk  or  plunge  down  gully  after  gully,  over  brink 
after  brink ;  the  mud,  too,  was  nearly  ankle-deep  in  places ;  and 
the  leaps  we  were  forced  to  make  from  point  to  point  over  the 
miry  ground,  —  the  long  drops  that  could  not  be  restrained  to 


282  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

steps,  and  that  jarred  us  painfully,  —  were  a  penance  of  pil 
grimage  that  Emery  Ann  and  I  would  hardly  have  dared  if  we 
had  counted  on.  But  we  had  each  a  careful  guide  to  help  us 
along ;  two  men  led  the  horses ;  General  Rushleigh,  as  was 
quite  natural  and  proper,  assisted  Mrs.  Regis  ;  and  Edith  and 
Margaret  took  merry  care  of  themselves  and  each  other. 

We  came  down  into  the  pasture  edges,  among  herds  of  cattle 
that  we  had  some  fear  of  at  first  in  passing,  as  they  looked  at 
us  with  intent,  strange  eyes  ;  we  struck  at  last  a  firmer,  evener 
slope,  and  found  the  way  narrowing  to  a  fenced  path,  where  only 
one  could  pass  at  a  time.  A  little  farther  down,  in  this,  the 
horses  waited. 

And  it  was  here  that  the  crown  of  the  day's  joy  and  wonder 
came  to  me. 

Our  guides  hastened  on  before  us  now,  to  be  ready  for  our 
mounting ;  the  two  girls  were  far  ahead ;  Emery  Ann  trudged 
stolidly  forward,  never  once  turning  her  head,  —  which  I  doubt, 
now,  if  she  had  power  to  waste  in  doing ;  she  was  like  a  soldier 
worn  out  and  sleeping  on  his  march. 

I  fell  behind,  and  quite  out  of  sight,  as  the  descent  and  breaks 
grew  steeper.  I  was  very  tired ;  I  felt,  at  last,  that  I  must  stop 
and  sit  still,  for  at  least  a  single  moment.  A  flat  stone  beside 
the  path,  and  a  tree-trunk  to  lean  against,  invited  me;  and  once 
down,  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  never  resolve  to  rise  again. 

I  was  all  alone.  No  one  else  visible ;  for  the  path  itself  was 
a  deep  gully,  and  the  turns  and  falls  in  it  shut  us  quickly  away 
from  each  other. 

Over  head  was  the  rosiness  and  the  deep  blue  of  a  fair  sun 
set;  lower  in  my  limited  horizon  were  the  illumined,  gauzy 
mists ;  the  tinkle  of  herd-bells  came  down  from  the  heights ; 
the  singing  voices  of  children,  stationed  by  the  path  to  win 
centimes  from  travelers,  floated  up  from  below  and  indicated 
the  advance  of  our  little  party.  In  the  pleasure  of  the  moment 
ary  solitude  and  rest,  I  thought  of  nothing  else. 

And  then  it  came,  in  its  divine,  unutterable  splendor.  In  the 
western  sky,  —  only  you  must  not  think  of  "  western  "  as  we  at 
home  look  away  toward  low  sunsets,  —  in  that  misty  west 
quarter  underneath  the  central  blue,  stood  up  a  great  cone. 


THE   SCHRECKHORN.  283 

A  mere  crag  of  rock,  you  think ;  or  even  of  snow,  flushed 
rosy,  as  the  Alps  do  flush,  in  wonderful  twilights  ? 

A  mountain,  Rose,  —  a  perfect,  towering  pyramid,  —  of  liv 
ing,  flaming,  palpitating  coals  ! 

Every  outline  sharp  in  light,  —  a  light  within  itself;  trans 
parent  with  clear  burning. 

A  mountain  whose  base  was  in  the  clouds,  whose  head  reared 
up  almost  to  midmost  sky.  The  one  thing  revealed,  out  of  the 
beautiful  chaos  of  struggling  light  and  vapor. 

The  great  outlines  of  the  Mattenberg  sloped  away  beside  it 
in  blazing  curves,  as  those  of  the  Eiger  had  done  in  pure  silver 
brightness.  But  this  one  solid  peak,  —  if  it  were  solid,  being 
like  a  translucent  crystal  of  unmingled  fire,  —  made  itself  real, 
complete,  in  every  literal  line,  and  yet  transfigured  with  that 
supernal  glory. 

I  forgot  everything  else.  I  sat  and  gazed,  not  knowing 
whether  I  breathed.  Did  Moses  see  more  than  that,  in  Horeb 
or  on  Sinai  ? 

My  guide  came  back  to  me.  They  were  frightened  for  me, 
and  had  sent  him  to  see  what  had  become  of  me.  I  believe  it 
was  what  he  said.  "  They  know  not  what  it  is  that  has  arrived 
to  you,  madame." 

"  That !  "  I  answered,  pointing  up. 

"  Ah,  yes !  "  he  said.     "  The  Schreckhorn." 

I  suppose  to  him  the  Schreckhorn  was  always  there. 

We  could  hardly  sit  up  on  our  saddles,  Emery  Ann  and  I, 
when  they  lifted  us  to  our  horses  again.  I  saw  her  lie  forward 
against  the  saddle  rail  and  almost  upon  the  animal's  neck,  as  we 
paced  cautiously  down  to  the  bridge  and  across  the  stream, 
among  the  old  mills  and  into  the  long  street  of  the  village,  in 
the  deep,  still  shadows  that  settled  swiftly  upon  the  valley. 
Nobody  spoke  a  word,  even  to  ask,  "  Did  you  see  ?  "  We  were 
thoroughly  exhausted. 

We  came  into  a  dark  nook,  beneath  the  mountain ;  we  passed 
under  the  trees  of  a  shady  garden  entrance,  and  rode  up  to  the 
door  of  a  hotel. 

Somehow,  we  got  inside,  and  found  ourselves  ushered  into  a 
big  salon,  with  bedrooms  opening  from  it  at  either  hand. 


284  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

We  said,  —  "  "Water.  Beds.  Four  teas  simple,  —  here.  As 
soon  as  possible." 

And  until  all  was  done  and  brought,  we  fell  into  speechless 
heaps  upon  sofas. 

That  night,  I  think  we  slept  like  death. 

Twelve  hours  were  a  mortal  blank. 


EDELWEISS.  285 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

EDELWEISS. 


•.  .  .  .  WE  came  to  life  out  of  deep  trance. 

"  Emery  Ann  !  "  I  called,  across  the  room. 

And  Emery  Ann,  from  the  other  little  bed,  held  up  her  right 
forefinger,  and  said,  "  Present !  " 

"  We  will  go  back  into  our  beloved  chaises  a  porteurs,  to 
day." 

"  Will  we  ?  Then  I  believe  I  '11  conclude  to  be  alive.  I 
had  n't  but  about  half  made  up  my  mind." 

"  But  the  men  and  the  horses  ?  "  she  said,  as  we  were  dress 
ing.  "  They  were  hired  to  go  through  to  —  what 's  its  name  — 
was  n't  they  ?  " 

"  To  Meyringen  ;  yes.  But  we  '11  send  back  two  men  and 
two  horses,  and  pay  their  return,  if  we  must.  We  might  as  well 
do  that,  as  wait  here." 

General  Rushleigh  settled  it ;  and  I  do  not  think  we  were 
much  cheated,  —  as  to  money,  at  least.  That  is  the  good  of  a 
man  ;  what  he  can't  help,  a  woman  is  reconciled  to  ;  but  she 
never  knows  exactly  when  to  be  reconciled  to  herself. 

Edith  and  Margaret  were  fresh  again.  They  were  both  used 
to  horseback,  and  had  n't  the  fearful  stiffness  that  we  suffered. 
What  kept  Mrs.  Regis  fresh  I  don't  know;  but  she,  and  her 
clean-brushed  traveling  dress,  and  her  white  collar  and  cuffs, 
and  her  little  cap-rim  around  her  glossy  hair,  came  forth  alto 
gether  new  and  bright  as  the  day.  Her  days  seem  to  be  over 
and  over  again,  as  the  sun's  are ;  not  one  after  the  other,  adding 
up  anything,  or  taking  anything  away.  Morning  is  morning ; 
spring  is  spring ;  nobody  knows  how  old  the  earth  is.  Here 
and  there  is  a  woman  just  like  that. 


286  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

After  we  got  started,  we  found  it  out.  That  poor  Emery 
Ann  had  had  a  yanking  old  horse,  and  a  wretchedly  uncomfort 
able  saddle,  all  day  yesterday;  and  the  wonder  was  that  she  had 
stayed  on  at  all,  or  had  come  off  with  undislocated  vertebrae. 
She  had  borne  it  all  those  hours,  as  some  poor  souls  bear  life, 
witless  that  there  is  anything  better  in  the  world,  or  that  they 
might  have  had  it,  if  there  were. 

"  Well ;  as  long  as  I  've  got  through,  it 's  all  the  same  to-day," 
she  said,  after  she  had  entered  paradise,  in  the  shape  of  her 
mountain-chair,  and  was  settling  herself  serenely  in  it.  "  Better, 
finally.  If  there 's  anything  to  my  credit,  let  it  go  to  balance 
the  muss  I  made,  starting.  It  did  seem  as  if  things  would  n't 
keep  together." 

The  men  had  taken  back  the  two  best  horses  ;  Margaret  had 
now  the  one  that  Emery  Ann  had  ridden,  and  Edith  mine. 
There  was  no  help  for  it.  General  Rushleigh  blamed  himself 
that  it  had  happened. 

"  I  don't  mind  it  in  the  least,"  said  Margaret.  "  I  can  always 
manage.  But  it 's  no  wonder  poor  Miss  Tudor  got  dismayed." 

She  put  a  folded  shawl  between  herself  and  the  saddle-rail, 
and  declared  that  it  was  quite  comfortable.  "  And  one  can  al 
ways  get  off  and  walk,  you  know." 

"  Or  change  saddles,"  said  General  Rushleigh,  passing  to  her 
side.  "  I  think  my  horse  is  easier." 

But  that  Margaret  would  not  allow.  She  thanked  him, 
shook  her  head,  and  moved  forward,  as  if  for  fear  he  should  per 
sist. 

The  riders  went  on  over  the  side  hill,  while  our  porters  took 
us  round  by  the  low  path  at  the  river-margin,  and  among  the 
mills.  It  was  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  before  we  all  met  again, 
at  a  little  cottage  where  they  had  milk  and  beer  to  sell,  and 
whence  the  path,  turning  an  abrupt  corner,  wound  away  into 
the  mountain. 

The  Great  Scheideck  is  another  huge  ridge,  lying  between 
the  two  valleys,  of  the  Grindelwald  and  Meyringen,  as  the  Wen- 
gern  Alp  stretches  between  Lanterbrunnen  and  the  Grindel 
wald.  All  the  morning  we  should  climb  the  one  side,  at  noon 
dine  upon  the  summit,  and  all  the  afternoon  descend  upon  the 
other. 


EDELWEISS.  287 

The  great  glacier,  that  comes  down  from  between  the  Well- 
horn  and  the  Wetterhorn,  reaches  the  valley,  over  against  the 
base  of  the  Great  Scheideck.  We  came  opposite  to  it  in  about 
an  hour,  before  our  path  began  to  make  more  directly  for  the 
summit ;  and  our  porters  took  us  down  into  the  ravine  to  see 
the  wonderful  clear  ice-mass,  and  the  blue  cavern  that  has  been 
cut  deep  into  it. 

The  riders  alighted  at  the  motfntain-chalet  station,  and  ac 
companied  us  on  foot.  We  all  crossed  the  little  plankway,  and 
climbed  along  the  slippery  glacier  edge,  and  entered  the  crys 
tal  tunnel,  which  runs  far  in,  a  winding  gallery,  under  the  huge 
superincumbence  of  solid  water  —  or  air,  —  one  hardly  knows 
which  to  fancy  it,  —  so  azure,  so  translucent  it  looks,  as  far  as 
vision  can  pierce  it,  and  then  so  shuts  against  the  sight  with  the 
very  blank  of  its  clearness. 

Emery  Ann  and  I  would  not  go  far  ;  we  paused  a  little  way 
within  the  entrance,  took  in  the  thought  of  it,  and  felt  it,  like 
the  gallery  of  the  Trient,  too  dreadful-beautiful  to  follow  into 
its  heart.  We  went  back  and  sat  in  the  sun,  that  shining  full 
down  upon  the  frozen  torrent,  neither  melts  nor  changes  it ; 
only  keeps  a  gentle  rain  falling  from  its  face,  where  it  stops, 
almost  like  a  Red-Sea  wall,  against  the  warmth  of  the  valley. 

I  wish,  Rose,  I  could  write  like  Charles  Reade,  and  put  in 
sentences  of  three  lines  each  the  visions  and  sensations  of  our 
day.  For  I  feel  that  I  cannot  give  you  every  day  and  all  day 
long. 

We  climbed  up  over  huge  fells,  and  moors,  and  crags,  into 
higher,  stiller  atmospheres,  till  at  the  sharp  ridge  we  stood  again 
upon  the  crest-line  of  two  mighty  slopes. 

Around  us  were  the  solemn  tops  of  the  Wetterhorn,  the 
Schreckhorn,  the  Eiger,  —  parting  the  clouds  and  looking  down 
at  us. 

We  saw  people  eating  dinners  at  the  summit  station  where 
we  rested ;  but  we  changed  our  minds  about  our  own,  and  waited 
to  get  them  at  Rosenlaui,  about  three  hours  farther  below  upon 
the  other  side. 

Our  little  cortege  trailed  picturesquely  down  among  the  rocks 
and  pastures,  —  now  over  the  bare  bleakness,  and  again  along 


288  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

moss-turf  and  ferny  patch,  winding  in  and  out  as  the  path 
threaded  the  rugged  breaks  and  pitches  toward  a  pine  forest 
that  closed  in  around  the  mountain  foot,  and  wrapped  the  valley 
in  green  pleasantness.  From  the  bareness  and  the  cloudy  soli 
tude,  we  came  upon  wood-sweetness,  the  works  and  tracks  of 
men,  the  bright  rush  of  a  clear  river,  little  rustic  bridges  by 
which  we  crossed  and  recrossed  the  rambling  stream,  some  falls 
and  sawmills,  and  then  to  the  hotel  and  baths  of  Rosenlaui. 

Before  we  got  there,  rain  was  falling.  The  clouds  had 
dropped  after  us,  first  upon  the  mountain  ridge,  and  then,  softly 
breaking  their  edges  into  gradual  rain,  came  pattering  into  the 
leaves  and  moss  about  us,  and  plashing  into  the  river.  It  was 
so  pretty  to  be  out  in  the  rain,  when  the  rain  itself  was  out  in 
the  lovely  wildness  !  We  did  n't  mind  it  in  our  waterproofs  ; 
we  were  only  a  little  chilly,  and  glad  to  get  to  the  blaze  of  a 
good  fire  which  they  gave  us  at  the  inn  while  the  dinner  was 
made  ready. 

But  what  the  rain  was  making  ready,  for  us,  we  did  not 
dream  as  we  ate  our  dinner  ! 

There  was  here  a  room  full  of  exquisite  and  elaborate  wood 
carvings ;  rich  brackets,  and  mantel  fittings,  clocks,  mirror 
frames,  chairs,  easels,  vases ;  baskets  and  stands  for  vines  and 
ferneries  ;  everything  conceivable  in  loveliest  forms  and  group 
ings  of  flowers,  foliage,  animals.  Mrs.  Regis  was  enchanted, 
and  spent  some  hundreds  of  dollars  for  things  to  be  packed  and 
Bent  direct  to  New  York.  I  bought  a  tiny  fernery,  and  a  little 
easel  wreathed  with  Madonna  lilies,  for  motherdie's  picture. 
These  I  carried  in  my  lap,  all  the  way  after,  to  Lucerne. 

Then  we  went  forth  again,  into  the  dropping  and  lifting 
mists,  that  still  swept  up  and  down  the  deep  valley,  as  if  they  had 
tumbled  in  and  would  fain  get  out  if  they  only  knew  the  way. 

"  It  would  clear  off  if  it  could,"  said  Emery  Ann  ;  "  but  how 
does  it  ever  clear  off  out  of  here,  without  being  turned  upside 
down  ?  " 

"  That  is  why  it  will  have  to  wait  till  to-morrow,"  said  Edith, 
laughing.  "  Till  the  world  is  the  other  side  up." 

Two  peasant  boys  came  springing  down  the  mountain-side 
upon  the  path,  as  we  crossed  the  bridge  again  to  the  right  bank 
of  the  Reichenbach. 


EDELWEISS.  289 

"  Edelweiss  !  Edelweiss  !  "  they  shouted,  holding  up  the 
blossoms  in  their  hands. 

"  Edelweiss !  "  called  the  guides  to  the  porters,  and  the  por 
ters  to  us.  It  was  a  thing  to  stop  for;  a  thing  that  nobody 
would  dream  of  passing  by.  The  men  set  down  our  chairs,  as 
a  matter  of  course. 

The  boys  made  straight  for  the  one  gentleman  of  the  party. 
General  Rushleigh  bought  the  Edelweiss. 

I  thought  he  would  give  it  to  Mrs.  Regis ;  I  thought  he 
would  have  to  ;  she  was  near  him,  and  had  been  near  him  all 
the  morning.  But  General  Rushleigh  is  not  a  man  who  has  to 
do  anything,  I  find. 

There  were  two  flowers ;  he  held  them  an  instant,  while 
something  like  a  wish  and  a  question  seemed,  to  my  •  sight,  to 
pass  through  the  expression  of  his  face.  Mrs.  Regis  had  moved 
a  little  onward, — just  her  horse's  length,  perhaps.  Edith  and 
Margaret  were  behind  him.  He  reined  his  horse  across  the 
path,  turned  slightly  in  his  saddle,  and  reached  his  right  hand 
back. 

"  Will  you  have  the  '  Noble- White,'  Miss  Margaret  ?  "  he 
said,  with  the  slightest  perceptible  emphasis  linking  the  pronoun 
and  the  blossom  name. 

He  had  not  spoken  her  name  before,  since  he  called  her 
"  Margaret,"  upon  the  precipice  of  the  Wengern  Alp. 

Then  he  gave  the  second  flower  to  Edith. 

•  They  belonged,  naturally  enough,  to  the  two  young  maidens. 
But  I  am  sure  he  translated  the  word  for  Margaret. 

He  rode  forward,  and  kept  next  to  Mrs.  Regis. 

Sometimes  a  man  shows  much  by  that  which  he  does  not  do. 

Afterward,  one  day,  it  happened  when  we  were  together  that 
I  saw  Margaret's  Edelweiss  between  the  leaves  of  her  Prayer 
Book;  just  beneath  the  Epistle  for  that  next  September  Sun 
day. 

"  Prove  all  things  ;  hold  fast  that  which  is  good.  And  the 
very  God  of  peace  sanctify  you  wholly." 

A  delicate  pencil-line  was  drawn  under  two  words  :  "  peace," 
—  and  "  wholly." 

19 


290  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

RIVER-PLUNGE  ;  AND  CLOUD-SEA. 


....  Do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  describe  rivers,  ia 
our  geography  lessons,  at  school  ?  "  Rises  in  the  Carpathian 
Mountains,  flows  southeast  and  east,  and  empties  into  the  Black 
Sea  ?  "  -As  if  a  river  ever  did  empty. 

It  is  the  best  way  I  can  think  of  to  describe  to  you  the 
Reichenbach  Valley,  —  that  beautiful,  deep,  but  high-lying 
groove  among  these  Alpine  tops,  through  which  we  made  pil 
grimage  in  the  golden  rain. 

It  begins  against  the  breast  of  the  Great  Scheideck  that 
slopes  toward  the  north  and  east ;  it  runs  thitherward,  and 
empties,  over  a  mighty  brink,  —  it  is  the  valley  which  does 
empty,  and  it  is  the  Reichenbach  which  is  poured  out,  in  a 
glory  we  are  coming  to,  —  into  the  lovely  lower  vale  of  Mey- 
ringen  that  stretches  across  right-angularly. 

We  saw  it  empty.  The  river,  whose  pathway  it  is,  —  and 
more.  That  which  also  it  held  and  was  brimful  of,  up  to  the 
tips  of  the  great  mountain-horns,  that  wet,  sweet  afternoon. 

Crossing  the  stream  upon  a  level,  —  its  shining  ripples  close 
beneath  and  beside  our  feet,  —  we  found  ourselves  presently 
following  the  face  of  a  high  cliff  again,  midway  to  its  crest ;  the 
swift  water  tumbling  far  below  us,  the  way  we  went ;  and  over 
opposite  the  other  wall  of  its  wild  channel-aisle,  a  thousand  feet 
high.  Touching  the  sky,  if  the  sky  were  blue ;  losing  itself  in 
gray  vapors,  now. 

A  straight  escarpment,  glowing  with  green ;  vines  and  ferns 
spilling  themselves  luxuriant  all  adown  it ;  over  tapestries  of 
moss  nourished  in  the  river-moistures.  Above  and  below,  rich 
forests. 


RIVER-PLUNGE;   AND   CLOUD-SEA.  291 

Along  the  gradual  incline  of  the  long  path  our  porters  swung 
us  easily,  with  rhythmical  motion  ;  the  fine-distilling  rain  stirred 
all  the  fragrances  of  the  wilderness  ;  that  tapestried  wall,  among 
whose  draperies  and  fringes  countless  little  water-threads  and 
white,  tiny,  foam-bursts,  tossed  forth  and  trickled  down,  rested 
our  eyes  half-tired  with  limitless  wonders,  in  its  near,  delicate 
beauty  ;  and  behind  us  a  southwest  wind  was  driving  the  mists, 
all  unrealized  by  us,  from  off  the  mountain  faces. 

The  rain  and  the  mist  grew  golden ;  the  sunlight  was  making 
a  hand-to-hand  contest  with  it ;  so  that  particle  to  particle,  the 
two  mingled  in  glistening  confusion,  and  under  it  the  woods  and 
herbage  were  a  citrine-green. 

All  at  once,  pure  light  flashed  ;  blue  broke ;  we  turned  our 
heads,  and  saw  that  up  from  the  south  the  pinnacles  were  reared 
again  into  upper  radiance ;  the  Wellborn  and  the  Wetterhorn 
leaned  out  of  the  zenith,  and  the  great  range  from  which  they 
spring  closed  up  the  sky  behind  us.  Before  us  poured  and 
rolled  the  scattered  clouds,  driven  the  valley  length,  to  be  tum 
bled  over  the  lower  mountains.  We,  in  clear  weather,  followed 
the  misty  stream  and  cataract. 

It  shone  at  first  with  simple,  warm  effulgence,  from  the  pur 
suing  sunshine ;  then,  as  it  fell  into  the  farther  east,  and  a  yet 
more  blazing  triumph  chased  it,  sending  quick  shafts  of  life-fire 
after  the  beautiful  rout,  it  broke  into  rainbow  blooms.  Down 
there,  perhaps,  in  the  level,  people  saw  the  perfect  arch  against 
the  hanging  drops;  we  saw  the  tossing  fragments,  —  here  green, 
there  gold ;  now  violet,  now  crimson ;  melting,  blending,  shift 
ing,  changing ;  a  great  basin  full  of  splendon,  —  the  making  of 
a  thousand  rainbows.  Between  the  grand,  still,  overhanging 
ramp.arts  out  from  whose  fastnesses  we  and  the  showers  had  come 
together,  and  that  lovely  rolling  and  heaping  beyond  and  below, 
we  moved  in  a  beauteous  mystery  ;  we  felt  ourselves  taken  into 
a  rapturous  secret,  behind  the  unlifted  curtains  of  cause. 

By  the  time  we  reached  the  brink,  the  under  valley  was  clear. 
It  lay  stretched  in  the  evening  glow,  exquisitely  beautiful  with 
its  green  fields,  its  villages,  its  farther  wooded  hills  and  over- 
crowning  amphitheatre  of  snows. 

We  had  come  down,  at  the  last,  a  most  precipitous  incline ; 


292  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

a  smooth-paved  causeway  over  which  the  horses  could  be  only 
led,  and  we  had  also  alighted  for  a  little  distance  from  our  chairs. 
Then  we  had  turned  to  the  left  upon  a  level  brow,  beyond 
whose  edge,  at  our  very  feet,  lay  the  distant,  exquisite  panorama. 
And  here  we  first  comers  awaited  the  rest.  For  when  the 
descent  began,  and  the  riders  dismounted,  our  sturdy  porters  had 
borne  us  ahead. 

We  went  round,  all  together,  into  the  little  hut,  so  built  upon 
the  hanging  point  of  crag  as  to  monopolize  the  sight  of  that  other 
wondrous  "  emptying,"  —  the  plunge  into  the  profound  ravine 
of  the  rushing  Reichenbach. 

From  the  little  platform  and  back  window  of  the  hut,  you 
look  over  a  narrow  gulf  that  separates  the  spur  of  rock  it  stands 
on  from  the  mountain.  Out  from  that  mountain  hurls  itself,  — 
no,  leaps  upward,  —  an  impetuous  mass  of  thundering  waters. 

It  has  come  all  the  way  down,  with  gathering  impetus,  from 
those  enormous  far-off  heights ;  it  has  buried  itself  at  last  in  the 
very  rock ;  you  look  in  through  the  winding  chambers  that  it 
has  ploughed,  and  see  it  fling  itself  hither,  thither,  down  their 
successive  hollow  descents,  searching  for  final  outlet,  churning 
itself  to  foam,  and  making  at  each  bound  a  fresh  roar  of  ever 
lasting  reverberation. 

It  seizes  its  ultimate  freedom  with  a  madly  jubilant  spring  ; 
shot  upward  with  a  vast  recoil,  it  vaults  into  the  air,  bends  it 
self  with  a  grand  poise  into  its  parabola  of  conscious  doom,  and 
delivers  itself  to  its  splendid  destruction  in  swift,  white  helpless 
ness,  scattered  as  it  goes,  into  myriad  and  myriad  sparkles  of 
ever  sundering  ato'ms. 

And  "  that  way  "the  Reichenbach  comes  down  into  the  Hasli- 
thal,  and  finds  the  Aare. 

We  took  our  way,  down  the  steep,  rapid  zigzags,  into  the 
valley  full  of  rosy  light.  We  looked  back,  ever,  as  we  went, 
upon  that  white  river-leap  among  the  darkening  pines. 

In  the  broad  road  beneath,  I  made  my  porters  stop  for  Mrs. 
Regis  to  ride  alongside  my  chair. 

"  We  are  deadly  weary,"  I  told  her,  —  "  Emery  Ann  and  I. 
I  am  sure  you  riders  will  be.  Must  we  stay  days  here  at 
Meyringen,  or  will  you  push  on  to  the  Lake  ?  At  Brienz, 


RIVER-PLUNGE;   AND   CLOUD-SEA.  293 

there  will  be  easy  excursions  up  and  down  the  water,  —  to 
Giessbach,  —  to  Interlachen  if  you  like.  You  strong  ones  will 
want  something  to  do.  I  feel  as  if  we  might  need  almost  a 
week  of  rest;  and  that  where  we  stop  to-night,  there  we  shall 
stay." 

Mrs.  Regis  assented.  She  certainly  did  not  want  a  week  at 
Meyringen  ;  and  the  possibilities  of  Brienz  and  the  Lake  which 
I  suggested  struck  her  pleasantly.  She  rode  on,  to  communi 
cate  our  ideas  to  General  Rushleigh,  and  Emery  Ann's  chair 
came  alongside  mine.  I  told  her  what  I  had  proposed,  and  the 
arguments.  She  summed  them  up  ;  much,  I  thought,  as  if  she 
had  taken  in  the  words  at  tired  ears,  and  had  to  gather  up  the 
sounds  again  with  a  determined  effort  to  make  sense. 

"  The  Lake  —  and  the  steamer  —  and  the  —  falls,  is  it  ? 
That  —  other  —  bach  ?  And  something  for  the  rest  to  be  doing, 
—  and  —  we  shall  be  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  bout,  shan't 
we  ?  "  she  concluded,  more  alertly. 

"The  Briinig,  —  yes." 

"  Well,  it 's  all  right,  I  presume."     And  she  drooped  again. 

We  sat  still  on  our  chairs,  therefore,  and  Mrs.  Regis  and 
Margaret  enthroned  themselves  upon  the  luggage,  when  we 
brought  up  at  the  inn  door  in  the  little  street  of  Meyringen  ;  and 
we  would  not  budge,  nor  understand  a  word,  though  all  the 
hotel  people  poured  out  around  us  to  seize  us  and  our  belong 
ings  in. 

General  Rushleigh  paid  off  the  guides  and  porters,  and 
opened  the  negotiation  for  further  conveyance. 

Of  course  it  was  "  impossible,  —  all  to  fact,  —  until  the  morn 
ing."  There  were  no  voitures  for  Brienz  to-night. 

"  Very  well,"  the  General  remarked  to  us,  in  French,  "  Rest 
you,  here.  I  go  to  seek  elsewhere." 

"  But  no,  sir !  Wait  a  moment,  sir !  If  it  is  that  Monsieur 
has  the  inevitable  necessity,  it  must  be  that  one  should  do  his 
possible  to  serve  him.  Wait,  wait,  if  you  please !  But  will  not 
the  ladies  mount  ?  " 

No :  we  would  not  mount.  We  would  sit  just  where  we 
were.  We  were  altogether  too  tired  to  go  up-stairs.  And  the 
result  was,  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes,  two  closed  voitures,  — 


294  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

violent  hands  laid  on  bags  and  wraps,  —  corners  and  boxes 
piled  with  shawls,  baskets,  valises,  —  four  porters  standing  at 
the  two  doors  for  their  fees,  —  and  we  put  in  promiscuously  in 
the  darkness. 

It  happened  for  the  first  time  that  the  families  were  broken, 
and  that  there  was  no  order  in  our  march. 

Edith  and  Margaret  had  gone  to  the  rescue  of  the  impedi 
menta,  to  see  at  least  that  the  right  things  went  in,  and  left 
some  space  for  us  to  come.  Then,  somehow,  Edith  got  Emery 
Ann  in  upon  a  forward  seat,  while  Mrs.  Regis  was  waiting  for 
a  glass  of  water,  and  to  find  the  centimes  to  pay  the  waiter-tax 
upon  it.  General  Rushleigh  put  me  into  one  carriage  and  her 
into  the  other,  last  of  all ;  and  then  it  turned  out  that  it  was 
Margaret  and  I  who  were  together,  and  had  the  remaining  seat 
for  him  with  us. 

Of  course,  Mrs.  Regis  was  not  so  rude  or  silly  as  to  object  or 
change.  The  doors  were  slammed  upon  us,  the  whips  cracked, 
and  we  were  off  upon  the  nine-mile  river  road,  under  the  black 
shadows  of  the  moonless  night  and  the  mountain-mass  of  the 
Brienzer-Grat  lifting  its  ridges  along  upon  our  right.  I  should 
have  skipped  this  drive  but  for  the  circumstance. 

Margaret  had  made  me  take  the  back  seat  of  which  one  end 
was  occupied  with  shawls^  against  which  she  insisted  I  should 
lean.  In  fact,  I  fell  back  among  them  almost  helpless  to  do 
otherwise. 

General  Rushleigh  placed  himself  beside  her,  forward.  It 
was  no  manoeuvre  of  mine,  nor  hers  ;  but  I  took  the  satisfaction 
of  it  as  one  can  only  take  a  satisfaction  when  things  happen  to 
one's  mind  without  plan  or  accountableness. 

"  I  do  hope  mamma  is  comfortable  ! "  said  Margaret.  "  We 
were  all  rushed  off  so  !  " 

"  Edith  is  doubtless  hoping  the  same  thing  for  me,"  I  an 
swered,  "  having  just  done  your  work  as  you  have  hers." 

I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  kept  resolutely  awake,  for  the 
matronizing  :  but  I  found  myself  deliciously  dozing,  and  deli- 
ciously  rousing  to  doze  again,  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  next  half 
hour.  I  think  I  came  to  semi-consciousness  whenever  they  began 
to  talk  a  little ;  but  there  were  long  silent  pauses,  unless  my 
sleep  was  completer  than  I  supposed. 


RIVER-PLUNGE;    AND   CLOUD-SEA.  295 

"  Are  you  very  tired,  Miss  Margaret  ?  "  I  heard  General 
Rushleigh  say,  after  one  of  these  intervals. 

"  No,  indeed.  I  fancy  the  '  tired '  does  n't  come  till  the 
wonder  and  the  beauty  have  faded  down  a  little.  I  have  been 
looking  at  it  all.  It  is  all  there,  like  the  spectrum  of  some  daz 
zling  thing.  —  Why  does  n't  anybody  ever  tell  you  about  Swit 
zerland  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  for  a  little  of  the  same  reason  that  those  raised 
from  the  dead  did  not  tell  what  they  had  seen." 

"  But  they  speak  of  it.  They  will  say,  —  '  Oh,  you  must  be 
sure  and  go  over  the  Wengern  Alp.  You  must  see  the  Reichen- 
bach.'  I  do  not  know  that  I  could  begin  at  all ;  but  it  does  not 
seem  to  me  that  I  could  stop  with  that  if  I  did  begin.'  And 
yet  who  will  ever  believe  me  if  I  tell  them  that  I  came  down 
into  a  sea  of  rainbows,  and  that  there  was  a  glory  of  a  waterfall 
that  fell  up  ?  Or  that  the  mountains  looked  over  at  me  from 
the  middle  of  the  sky  ?  " 

"  They  might  not  all  see  it  just  the  same,  if  they  were  here. 
Beauty  like  Wisdom  "  — 

"  Is  only  justified  of  her  own  children,"  I  said ;  for  he  hesi 
tated  to  finish  it.  He  was  so  very  scrupulous  of  what  he  said  to 
Margaret. 

"  There  were  two  women  grinding  at  the  same  mill,  you 
know,"  he  said,  availing  himself  of  me  ;  and  I  knew  by  his  tone 
that  he  was  smiling.  "  Think  of  some  of  those  we  saw  at 
Interlachen.  They  have  been  grinding  here  and  there,  all 
summer  at  it.  I  suppose  they  will  go  home  and  say  that 
Switzerland  is  '  fascinating.'  " 

He  said  the  word  with  the  very  accent  of  a  woman  who  emp 
ties  her  imagination,  and  ends  the  subject,  with  it. 

We  both  laughed. 

"  But  I  wish  I  knew  what  I  did  see,"  said  Margaret,  simply. 
"  And  why  it  made  me  feel  so.  You  know,  Miss  Patience ;  you 
always  do.  What  were  those  clouds,  all  poured  down  there 
under  our  feet  ?  " 

"  I  shall  find  out,  perhaps,"  said  I.  "  This  and  that  come  to 
gether,  sooner,  or  later,  if  we  keep  '  looking,'  as  you  say.  But 
I  am  sure  General  Rushleigh  knows.  Ask  him." 


296  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  and  Margaret's  sweet  voice  turned  itself  in  the 
darkness,  so  that  I  knew  her  face  turned. 

"  I  think  it  was  a  '  sea  of  troubles,'  "  said  Paul  Rushleigh. 

I  hate  to  be  forever  calling  him  "  General,"  but  I  suppose  I 
must  —  generally. 

"  Dropped  away  —  and  turned  beautiful.  The  bright  side, 
—  the  upper  side.  You  did  know.  I  could  only  guess,  you 
see,"  Margaret  added,  quietly. 

"  I  have  lived  long  enough  for  some  things  to  have  drifted 
down,"  he  answered. 

"  Yes  ;  some  things,"  Margaret  repeated.  "  And  when  they 
have  all  drifted  down  "  — 

"  It  may  be  like  that.  Only  it  is  hard  to  imagine,  when 
there  is  a  new  fog  around  one." 

"  I  wonder,"  I  said,  "  if  that  sea  of  human  troubles  —  swept 
away  —  may  not  have  been  the  very  rainbow  John  saw,  round 
the  throne  ?  " 

"  The  tears  that  were  wiped  from  all  eyes,"  said  Margaret, 
quickly,  before  she  remembered  herself  in  speaking.  After  she 
had  said  it,  she  sat  very  quiet. 

I  wondered  at  General  Rushleigh,  then.  He  also  was  quiet 
for  a  moment,  but  directly  he  said,  quite  in  his  ordinary  way  :  — 

"  I  suppose  they  will  make  two  hours  of  this  carriage  drive. 
It  is  very  dark."  And  he.  leaned  toward  the  window,  trying  to 
discover  some  outline  of  things  in  the  gloom. 

That  shut  down  something  between  our  thoughts,  that  had 
begun  to  quicken  mutually,  as  the  darkness  shut  our  faces  from 
each  other's  sight.  We  each  turned  in  upon  ourselves,  and  sat 
there,  close  together,  but  in  a  sudden  separateness.  There  was 
no  more  talk  for  a  good  while. 

I  could  not  bear  it  very  well.  I  felt  as  if  Margaret  had  been 
almost  pushed  aside.  Left,  at  least,  alone  and  chilled,  by  his 
withdrawal.  For  it  was  plain  to  instinctive  perception,  —  so 
keen,  I  knew,  in  her,  —  that  he  held  back  from  the  nearness  to 
which  such  conversing  —  such  real  turning  together  —  tended. 
I  wondered,  was  he  afraid  ?  It  was  like  his  calling  her  "  Mar 
garet,"  and  then  not  speaking  to  her,  hardly  any  more  that  day. 

I  asked  her  some  slight  question  a  few  minutes  afterward,  and 


RIVER-PLUNGE;   AND   CLOUD-SEA.  297 

she  answered  me  with  the  "  tire  "  in  her  voice  that  had  not 
come  before.  The  joy  and  beauty  were  "  fading  down  a  little." 

General  Rushleigh  noticed  that.  "  You  are  exhausted,"  he 
said.  "  Have  you  anything  to  lean  your  head  upon  ?  Are  your 
feet  comfortable?  Let  me  put  this  rug  in  your  corner." 

And  he  had  to  reach  his  arms  around  her,  to  place  the  soft 
wrap,  loosely  folded  and  strapped,  so  that  she  could  make  a  pil 
low  of  it. 

"  Now,  could  n't  you  both  sleep  a  little  ?  " 

Margaret  said  only  "  Thank  you,"  but  there  was  almost  a 
quiver  in  the  syllables.  He  leaned  back  in  his  own  corner,  and 
we  fell  utterly  silent. 

"  It  would  have  rested  me  so  much  more,  if  he  would  only 
have  gone  on  talking,"  Margaret  said  to  me  afterward,  with  her 
simple,  touching  frankness.  "  He  is  very  kind,  but  I  can  see  he 
does  not  want  much  of  me.  He  is  very  different  with  mamma. 
I  thought  he  was  going  to  be  my  friend,"  she  ended,  sadly. 

We  stayed  five  days  at  Brienz,  which  time  Emery  Ann  and  I 
passed  almost  wholly  in  our  own  rooms.  Indeed,  I  was  fairly 
ill  with  weariness  ;  and  the  poor  fare  they  gave  us  made  an  end 
of  my  appetite.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  grapes  the  others 
brought  us  when  they  came  in  from  their  daily  excursions,  I 
think  we  should  both  have  broken  down  with  a  settled  sickness. 

It  was  one  afternoon  when  they  had  all  come  back  from  a  sail, 
that  Margaret  and  I  were  alone  a  while,  and  she  said  to  me  what 
I  have  just  put  down. 

"  He  always  does  something  to  make  me  comfortable,  and 
then  goes  away,  or  hushes  me  up,  as  he  did  that  night,  coming 
from  Meyringen." 

That  was  the  way  she  had  come  round  to  it ;  having  told  me 
some  little  thing  that  had  occurred  that  afternoon  ;  his  changing 
his  seat  in  the  boat,  and  putting  Edith  next  her,  so  that  they 
both  might  have  the  shade  of  Edith's  parsol. 

"  I  always  forget  mine,  you  know ;  and  I  did  n't  mind  the 
sun  a  bit.  How  can  I  help  thinking  he  wants  to  get  away  from 
me?" 

"  He  is  a  very  unselfish  person,  I  think,"  was  my  reply  to 


298  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

the  innocent  complaint  that  told  me  so  much  in  which  a  woman 
understands  a  girl  beyond  her  own  perception  of  herself.  "  He 
saw  how  very  tired  you  were  that  night,  —  how  tired  we  both 
were." 

And  then  she  answered  me  as  I  have  told  you.  "  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  be  my  friend." 

"  I  am  very  sure  he  is  your  friend,"  I  said. 

"  Is  this  all  it  is,  then,  to  be  a  friend  ? "  she  asked.  "  I 
thought  it  would  be  more.  It  is  more  with  me  and  you,  Miss 
Patience.  It  is  more  with  him  and  mamma.  No ;  I  begin  to 
be  sure  he  will  not  have  me  for  a  friend." 

"  He  cannot  help  it.  What  you,  —  what  people,  —  are  to 
each  other,  they  will  be,  whatever  interrupts." 

"It  maybe  something  to  come,"  said  Margaret.  "  But  it  is 
not  come  yet.  I  suppose  it  is  I  who  have  not  come  to  it.  I 
fancy,  sometimes,  that  perhaps  he  may  think  I  am  not  amiable 
with  mamma.  But  I  can't  affect,  —  or  even  make  a  point  of 
things,  —  to  get  friendship,  any  more  than  to  get  money.  I 
want  to  belong  to  such  people,  Miss  Patience,"  she  said  ear 
nestly  ;  "  even  if  I  have  to  live  all  my  life  away  from  them." 

"  That  was  all  that  even  the  Lord  promised  to  John  and 
James ;  to  drink  of  his  cup,  and  be  baptized  with  the  same 
baptism,"  I  said  to  her.  To  be  set  beside  Him,  —  on  his  right 
hand  and  his  left,  —  was  something  to  be  given  as  it  pleased 
the  Father.  We  shall  all  come  to  what  is  really  for  us ;  we 
shall  find  the  fellowship ;  we  shall  be  satisfied  ;  when  we  awake, 
and  see  the  whole ;  as  it  is,  and  as  it  has  been  making." 

What  else  could  I  tell  her,  —  though  I  believed  it  might  be, 
—  even  ought  to  be,  —  very  near  her,  —  that  avowed,  beautiful 
belonging  ?  It  was  not  come  yet,  as  she  had  said.  She  only 
knew  she  had  no  wine.  What  if  it  were  commanded  first  that 
the  jars  should  be  filled  with  water  ?  It  was  as  if  the  voice 
said  to  me,  longing  for  her :  "  Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with 
thee  ? "  I  could  only  tell  her,  as  Mary  told  the  servants : 
"  Whatsoever  He  saith  unto  you,  do  it." 


OVER  THE  BRUNIG:  THE  LAKE:  RHIGI.       299 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

OVER  THE  BRUNIG  :    THE  LAKE  :    RHIGI. 


....  WE  went  over  the  lovely  Briinig  Pass,  up  from  the 
valley  of  Meyringen ;  looking  back  upon  it  once  more  at  our 
feet,  and  looking  over  from  the  new  heights  we  gained  to  those 
we  had  traversed  to  come  into  it ;  catching  a  last  glimpse  of  the 
last  down-dropping  of  the  Reichenbach  ;  then,  through  sweet 
woods  upon  the  northern  slope,  we  descended  to  the  other  lake 
side ;  the  fairest  lake,  I  think,  in  all  Switzerland,  —  Lucerne. 

It  was  one  more  day  of  sunlight  and  deliciousness  ;  a  day  of 
heaven  upon  the  heavenly  hills. 

At  Alpnach  we  took  the  boat,  and  steamed  down  through 
chamber  after  chamber  of  enchantment,  whose  floors  were  the 
still,  clear  water  depths,  whose  winding  walls  were  the  encir 
cling  mountains,  whose  divisions  the  green  promontories  seeming 
almost  to  shut  themselves  across  before  us,  and  then,  through 
beautiful  doorways  gradually  revealed,  widening  out  to  new, 
magnificent  curves  and  spaces,  where  Pilatus  and  the  Rhigi  and 
the  perpendicular  forests  of  the  Bergenstock  hemmed  us  grandly 
in.  Overhead,  that  firmament  of  one's  special  own,  which  is 
had  only  in  this  close  surrounding  of  great  heights. 

But  we  had  not  got  away  from  those  other  skies,  —  even  into 
the  separate  shelter  of  this  sweet,  still  water-world.  There  yet 
looked  into  it  from  over  the  rough  shoulders  of  Pilatus,  the  far, 
white  peaks  of  the  Eiger,  the  Monch,  the  Schreckhorn,  the 
Jungfrau,  —  out  of  their  supreme  heaven. 

Margaret  kept  closely  with  me.  She  was  proud  and  sensitive 
about  putting  herself  in  General  Rushleigh's  way,  since  she  had 
taken  that  notion  that  he  did  not  want  much  of  her.  She  could 
not  be  with  her  mother  without  being  with  him ;  General  Rush- 


300  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

leigh  certainly  quite  devoted  himself  to  Mrs.  Regis;  and  it  had 
gradually  come  about  that  Mrs.  Regis  and  I  had  almost  changed 
girls,  —  as  children  change  dolls  for  a  while,  —  Edith  was  such 
a  pet  with  her,  and  Margaret  turned  so  much  to  me. 

We  had  exchanged  them  as  traveling  companions,  coming 
over  the  Briinig.  Edith  had  gone  in  the  carriage  with  Mrs. 
Regis  and  the  General,  and  Margaret  had  been  with  us.  It  was 
Margaret's  doing,  I  think.  Edith  suits  Mrs.  Regis,  too,  artist 
ically.  There  is  a  childish  grace  about  her  that  complements 
itself  to  a  lighter,  younger  matronage  than  Margaret's  grave, 
independent  ways  and  noble,  womanly  air  can  do.  Also,  there 
is  not  the  inevitable  reminder  of  "  mamma."  All  these  little 
things  fit  in,  like  cogs,  and  move  the  wheels ;  the  way  some 
deeper  power,  I  suppose,  is  set  to  make  them  go. 

We  had  to  proceed  to  Lucerne,  although  we  had  resolved  not 
to  stop  there  now.  General  Rushleigh  was  obliged  to  be  at 
Ragatz  by  the  middle  of  the  coming  week,  and  we  wanted  him. 
to  go  up  the  Rhigi  with  us.  Besides,  as  Mrs.  Regis  said,  after 
the  Rhigi  must  come  another  rest,  and  Lucerne  would  just  do 
for  us  then. 

I,  too,  had  my  own  dear  little  "  beside,"  which  I  did  not  tell 
to  anybody.  It  was  Saturday ;  and  Sunday  would  be  mother- 
die's  day,  —  the  fifteenth  of  September. 

On  the  first,  —  my  day  and  hers,  —  we  had  had  that  gift  of 
glory  on  the  Montanvert.  Between,  —  you  know  how  we  used 
to  make  holiday  of  the  between,  that  is  since  such  holy  day,  — 
has  been  all  this  joy  and  uplifting  of  the  mountains ;  now  if  I 
could  climb  up  to  the  top  of  Rhigi  for  the  dear  fifteenth,  would 
it  not  be  like  a  Mount  Pisgah  to  me  ?  Should  I  not  be  very 
near,  —  almost  to  reach  up  and  in  ? 

When  I  am  with  other  people,  who  have  not  known,  I  keep 
it  all  in  my  heart.  I  could  not  tell  them  ;  not  even  Margaret ; 
unless  when  it  is  over.  I  do  not  suppose  Edith  remembers  it  at 
all.  At  home,  I  have  your  mother  and  Mrs.  Shreve,  who  under 
stand.  They  just  come  quietly  in  in  the  morning,  and  bring 
me  flowers  ;  Mrs.  Shreve  always  has  the  pure,  sweet  tuberoses 
for  me  then ;  and  then  they  leave  me,  because  they  know  I  am 
not  alone. 


OVER  THE  BRUN1G:  THE  LAKE:  RHIGI.       301 

But  here,  —  I  could  not  have  explained,  to  make  anything 
happen !  And  yet,  see  how  it  all  did  happen.  These  thinga 
are  how  I  know  it  is  not  all  left  to  myself. 

We  were  too  late  for  the  boat  that  goes  up  from  Lucerne  to 
Vitznau  —  at  the  Rhigi-foot  —  ha  time  for  the  train  up  the 
mountain.  We  had  to  wait  an  hour  or  two,  and  take  the  last 
boat,  and  so  sleep  at  Vitznau.  Early  in  the  Sunday  morning 
there  would  be  a  car  for  that  dizzy  railway  climb. 

You  must  look  on  your  map,  —  as  I  hope  you  have  been  do 
ing  all  along,  —  to  remind  yourself  clearly  just  what  a  lovely, 
winding,  inlet-y  lake  this  is,  that  creeps  away  north,  east,  west, 
south,  into  depths  and  hearts  of  Alpine  wildness  and  beauty, 
sheltering  and  hiding  itself  away  in  the  shadowy  embraces  of 
enormous  mountains  that  stand  in  its  very  waters  and  shape  it 
in  on  every  side. 

You  look  up  and  down  alternate  dreamlike  vistas,  on  your 
left  and  on  your  right;  you  sweep  out  into  a  broad,  central  sea; 
you  sail  again  into  a  narrowing  glade  at  whose  farther  end  the 
cliffs  seem  rounded  to  an  absolute  closing  curve ;  and  when  at 
last,  in  the  falling  gloom,  in  which  the  twinkling  shore  lights 
glimmer  out  from  village  clusters  beneath  the  impending  forest 
masses,  like  swarms  of  fireflies  alighted  in  the  dense  black  leaf 
age,  you  come  quite  up  against  the  boundary,  —  lo  !  a  little  magic 
looplet  opens  in  the  very  hills,  and  through  it  the  boat  shoots 
into  another  still,  shadowy,  mountain-girdled  sea  ! 

Only  we  stopped  just  short  of  doing  that.  Vitznau  lies  just 
in  the  hither  bend. 

We  had  seen  the  white  puff  of  the  locomotive  from  far  down 
the  lake,  as  it  floated  slowly  up  the  long  incline,  and  hung 
among  the  fir-trees  away  above  the  little  town,  on  the  huge 
flank  of  Rhigi.  We  had  only  to  eat  some  broiled  chickens, 
drink  our  tea  or  new  milk,  and  go  thankfully  to  bed  in  the 
clean  pretty  chambers  they  gave  us  at  Hotel  Pfyffer,  looking 
down  through  a  garden  of  trees  to  the  other  lighted  houses 
of  the  shore,  and  upon  the  moveless  shadow  of  the  sleeping 
'ake. 


302  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Should  you  like  to  get  into  a  car  that  sits  tilted  up  on  the 
track  at  an  angle  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  degrees,  —  in  which 
the  passengers  are  all  seated  backward,  the  lines  of  faces 
making  a  pleasant  human  slope  as  you  look  up ;  whose  loco 
motive,  placed  behind,  has  its  boiler,  shaft,  and  chimney  pitched 
at  a  sharp  forward  incline,  so  that  it  may  be  relatively  upright  as 
it  ascends,  —  its  fifth  wheel,  contrary  to  all  proverbial  sarcasm, 
being  the  soul  and  safety  of  the  whole  concern,  clutching  with 
resolute  little  cogs  at  a  middle  ratched  rail,  and  clawing  its  way 
slowly,  by  main  force,  up  the  long,  frightful  steep,  with  its  tun 
nel  cut  for  eighty  yards  through  the  perpendicular  rock,  and  its 
viaduct  crossing  high  in  air  from  crest  to  crest  above  the  deep, 
wild  gorge  beyond  ? 

Should  you  like  to  ride  in  that  car  an  hour  and  a  quarter, 
feeling  the  tug  and  strain  with  which  those  little  iron  teeth  are 
holding  on  for  your  and  everybody's  dear  life  beneath,  while 
you  look  forth  and  over  to  see  the  lake  and  valley  drop,  drop, 
as  they  drop  beneath  the  eagle's  flight,  and  the  great  snow  circle 
of  the  Alps,  the  dazzling  crown  of  the  continent,  rise  slowly  in 
the  horizon,  point  after  point  ? 

Yes,  you  would  like  it,  after  the  first  thrill.  You  would  for 
get  that  you  were  anything ;  that  it  would  be  of  any  conse 
quence  whether  you  should  drop  or  not.  Not  that  there  would 
be  no  care ;  quite  otherwise.  In  the  great  Might  around  you 
everywhere,  it  is  so  plain  you  could  not  fall  out  of  care.  I 
think  that  is  the  hidden  secret  of  the  excited  impulse  people  say 
they  have,  to  fling  themselves  forth  into  great  space  and  depth. 
That  was  one  very  way  the  tempter  came  to  the  Son  of  Man. 
And  by  so  much  deeper  were  all  his  temptations  than  our  own, 
that  He  always  faced  the  subtle  heart  of  them.  It  is  a  mere 
insanity  that  most  times  seizes  us.  The  inmost  mystery  of  a 
truth — but  a  truth  unlawful  to  lay  hold  of — lifted  itself  to 
beckon  Him.  The  nearer  we  seem  to  get  to  that  shape  of  an 
angel  of  light  that  appears  to  stand  in  the  centre  of  the  circle 
whose  circumference  of  interdiction  is  drawn  for  our  first  pro 
tection,  the  more  deadly  and  interior  we  may  know  our  sin. 


NOONTIDE   AND   MORNING   UPON   RHIGI.  303 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

NOONTIDE  AND  MORNING  UPON  RHIGI. 


.  ...  IT  was  up  on  Rhigi  that  a  thing  happened  to  mo  that 
very  often-  happens  to  people  in  story-books ;  and  that  gave  me 
occasion  to  put  in  practice  a  ready-made  theory  which  never  seems 
to  have  occurred  to  any  of  the  inventive  persons  who  deal  in 
high-minded  fiction,  and  who  make  their  best  characters  alto 
gether  helplessly  mean  in  consequence. 

It  is  not  often  that  ready-made  emergency-theories  come  to 
practice.  The  emergency  is  so  apt  to  vary  from  the  programme, 
or  even  never  to  come  at  all.  I  have  had  my  plans  all  laid  for 
fire  and  burglars,  all  my  life  long,  and  have  never  got  a  chance 
to  test  my  patents. 

But  my  patent  against  involuntary  eavesdropping  came  to 
triumphant  proof  on  Rhigi. 

We  escaped  eagerly  from  the  train  when  it  landed  us  below 
the  Kulm,  under  the  deep  embankment  behind  the  hotel. 

The  Rhigi  mounts  up,  in  the  midst  of  the  sea  of  wavelike 
peaks  it  looks  abroad  on,  like  a  huge  curling  crest,  ready  to 
break  on  the  western  side,  where  it  overhangs  the  lake-valley. 
The  long  sweep  upward  is  its  eastern  back,  over  which  the  bold 
little  wheel  and  ratchet  ply  their  perilous  way.  Eastward  from 
the  slope,  below  the  crown,  you  gaze  off  upon  billows  of  Alps ; 
around  thence  toward  the  north,  they  stretch  also  ;  westward  and 
northwestwardly,  when  you  have  gained  the  dizzy  apex,  you 
look  into  a  gulf,  —  how  beautiful  the  gulf  is  cannot  be  said  in 
the  same  word,  —  into  a  gulf  over  which  this  foremost  breaker 
of  a  solid  flood  seems  to  have  reared  itself  and  hung  arrested. 

You  stand  as  on  the  lip  of  the  vast  tide,  and  look  down  and 
away  through  the  far,  low  stretch  ;  you  see  Pilatus  ending  the 


804  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

Alp-line  on  your  left,  —  you  see  Lucerne  lying  at  the  distant  tip 
of  the  last,  bright,  narrow  bay  of  the  green  water  underneath 
you,  —  ever  so  far  underneath  ;  for  if  Leman  is  as  a  great  liquid 
sapphire  for  pure  color,  Lucerne  is  like  a  chrysoprase,  answer 
ing  the  forest  shadows  with  a  tenderer,  goldener  gleam,  as  Leman 
echoes  the  upper  depths  of  blue. 

Into  the  wonderful  color,  —  looking  over  into  it  through  more 
than  four  and  a  half  thousand  feet  of  air,  —  you  are  never  satis 
fied  with  sending  your  thirsty  vision.  You  drink  its  soft  glory, 
as  your  mouth  might  drink  of  the  clear  element  that  makes  it. 
You  trace  its  labyrinths  running  irregularly  hither  and  thither, 
into  the  wooded  solitudes  ;  you  see  the  tiny  hamlets  and  sepa 
rate  houses  standing  among  the  trees  ;  Tell's  chapel  is  there, 
and  an  old  Abbey  ;  the  Lake  of  Zug  runs  down  from  the  north, 
and  almost  touches  the  Kiissnacht  arm  of  Lucerne ;  the  villages 
of  Kiissnacht  on  this  point  and  Immensee  on  that  are  at  the  two 
extremes  of  the  water  reaches,  and  the  Chapel  of  the  Hero  is 
midway  on  the  strip  of  land  between. 

The  Jura  mountains,  through  whose  gate  —  coming  with  us  — 
you  came  into  Switzerland,  are  a  dim  line  beyond  which  the  sun 
goes  down. 

Can  you  see  ever  so  little  a  bit  of  it,  through  my  seeing  ? 

Along  this  giddy  brink  that  leans  over  from  mid  air,  there 
is  a  heavy  rail  to  hold  by  as  you  gaze.  But  just  below  there  is 
a  large,  rounding  shelf,  easily  reached  by  a  side  path,  covered 
with  crisp,  dry  turf,  and  quite  sheltered  from  the  keen  wind  as 
it  blew  out  of  the  east  that  day. 

We  all  crept  down  upon  it,  and  spread  our  shawls,  and  sat 
there  in  the  bright  forenoon  sunshine,  and  found  our  way  through 
the  wide  bewilderment  of  the  scene  below  by  the  help  of  our 
"  Baedekers." 

After  a  while,  I  stole  away  from  the  rest  of  the  party  ;  not 
abruptly  leaving  them,  to  call  forth  question,  but  straying  slowly 
back  toward  the  summit,  and  there  lingering  a  little ;  then, 
turning,  I  followed  the  pathway  along  the  northern  brow  till  a 
descent  showed  itself  here  also,  to  a  protected  ledge  beneath. 
In  fact,  a  regular,  somewhat  hazardous  zigzag  ran  down  sev 
eral  turns,  —  perhaps  more,  but  I  could  not  see,  —  along  the 


NOONTIDE  AND  MORNING   UPON  RHIGI.  305 

nearly  precipitous  face  this  way,  till  the  actual  precipice  seemed 
to  end  it. 

I  only  ventured  to  the  second  parallel,  and  there  found  a 
rocky  niche  against  the  cliff,  where  I  could  be  quite  safe  and 
alone,  as  I  longed  to  be,  to  keep  my  own  thought  and  my  own 
day  a  while. 

Over  opposite,  against  the  Rossberg,  —  the  neighbor  wave  of 
this  vast  mountain  tide,  —  is  a  great  grave.  It  is  the  grave  of 
a  village,  buried  more  than  sixty  years  ago,  on  which  the  earth 
yet  lies  fresh.  So  different  from  the  old,  old  mountain  shows 
the  upturned  stratum  which  slid  down  from  it  and  covered 
Goldau  with  its  five  hundred  dwellers. 

Over  the  village  and  the  villagers,  this  wide,  black  death. 
Over  the  death  and  the  silence,  the  blue  air  and  the  sweet,  sun- 
full  heaven ;  the  larger,  truer  sign ;  the  infinite  room  and  res 
urrection. 

I  had  been  here  half  an  hour,  perhaps.  I  knew  they  would 
not  worry  about  me,  for  Edith  and  Emery  Ann  knew  my 
ways,  and  they  saw  me  go  ;  and  people  —  singly  and  in  groups 
—  were  straying  all  about  the  great  mountain  crown,  from  one  to 
another  of  its  many  outlooks. 

I  had  been  in  perfect  stillness  for  half  an  hour,  when  I  heard 
voices  of  persons  just  above  me  on  the  upper  ridge.  It  was  so 
quiet,  it  seemed  as  if  I  might  have  heard  voices  across  that  wide 
air-space  from  Rossberg. 

As  the  speakers  came  toward  the  edge,  and  paused,  I  recog 
nized  that  they  were  Mrs.  Regis  and  General  Rushleigh,  and  I 
began  to  hear  the  words  they  said. 

There  was  no  harm  in  hearing  the  first  words.  They  were 
of  the  wonder  of  the  day  and  place,  the  pleasure  of  all  these  last 
days  together  ;  and  then  General  Rushleigh  spoke  of  his  leav 
ing. 

"  It  must  be  to-morrow,  I  think,"  he  said.  "I  shall  accompany 
you  back  to  Lucerne,  and  take  the  evening  train  to  Zurich." 

"  We  shall  miss  you  —  grievously,"  said  Mrs.  Regis  ;  and 
she  spoke  slowly,  as  she  would  not  have  spoken  words  of  course. 

"  What  the  missing  will  be  on  my  side,  I  hardly  dare  to  tell 
you  —  now,"  said  General  Rushleigh.  "  I  cannot  tell  you  all 
20 


306  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

this  journey  has  been  to  me,  —  what  your  friendship  has  been. 
Some  time,  —  when  some  things  that  I  ought  to  be  sure  of  have 
grown  clearer  to  me,  —  I  may  try  —  may  venture  "  — 
-  "  I  am  your  friend.     You  may  tell  me  anything,"  said  Mrs. 
Regis,  when  he  paused  so  absolutely. 

It  had  not  taken  long  for  these  sentences  to  be  spoken.  They 
just  gave  me  time  to  think ;  they  mixed  themselves  up  with  my 
thought ;  —  "  This  will  not  do.  —  Must  I  stand  up,  where  they 
can  see  me  ?  Should  I  go  up,  and  meet  them  ?  "  Yes,  —  and 
stop  all  this  that  they  were  saying,  and  that  then  might  never 
be  said. 

Besides,  I  wanted  my  beautiful  solitude  a  little  while  longer, 
and  presently  they  would  go  away  and  leave  it  to  me. 

Then  my  brilliant  idea  came  back  to  me. 

I  just  did  the  thing  that  all  the  people  who  ever  got  caught 
behind  curtains  in  deep  windows,  or  on  balconies  within  from 
which  were  rooms  with  speakers  in  them  who  did  not  guess 
they  were  overheard,  or  any  where  else  where  they  listened 
perforce  to  what  they  had  no  business  to  hear,  might  have  done 
as  well  and  simply  as  not  —  if  my  patent  had  only  been  out. 

And  now,  it  is  out. 

I  just  sat  still,  and  put  the  ends  of  my  two  little  fingers  tight 
into  my  ears. 

It  answered  admirably.  I  don't  know,  and  I  never  shall 
know,  what  those  two  people  went  on  to  say,  or  whether  they 
went  any  farther  at  all.  I  knew  it  was  not  meant  for  me,  — 
not  even  by  the  ordering  of  things,  which  I  believe  in.  Because 
of  those  two  little  fingers,  which  were  ordered  also.  Ordered 
to  fit  exactly  into  the  little  galleries  of  sound,  that  have  no  gates 
across  them. 

I  speculated  about  that,  while  I  sat  so,  with  my  elbows  on  my 
knees.  It  would  not  do  that  we  should  be  able  to  make  our 
own  quiet  too  easily ;  we  should  shut  out  disturbance,  and  de 
spoil  ourselves  of  safeguard.  But  for  conscientious  emergencies, 
how  exquisitely  those  finger-tips  are  measured ! 

The  inward  hearing  was  not  let  nor  hindered,  though.  I  be 
lieve,  —  I  know,  now,  —  that  I  perceived  more  of  General 
Rushleigh's  meaning  than  his  companion  did,  whatever  more 


NOONTIDE  AND   MORNING  UPON   RHIGI.  307 

he  spoke  to  her.  I  knew  if  this  man  did  not  mean  to  speak,  — 
if  he  did  not  think  it  right  to  tell  out  fully  what  he  hinted  at,  — 
no  sweet  friendliness  would  beguile  him  into  it.  I  did  not 
think  he  told  her  any  further ;  but  there  might  have  been  more 
words  of  personal  confidence  and  regard,  —  more  half  expres 
sions  that  she  linked  entirely  with  these,  and  so  took  wholly  to 
herself,  where  I  by  no  means  believed  they  all  belonged.  He 
liked  her  so  very  much,  and  so  safely ;  and  she,  —  well,  a 
woman  cannot  always  be  made  friendship  to. 

She  had  shown  herself  very  lovely  to  him.  Yes,  and  she  is 
very  lovely.  Only,  somehow,  it  is  the  concentred  loveliness 
you  look  at,  —  the  loveliness  that  all  circumstance  ministers  to 
and  that  ends  in  itself,  —  rather  than  the  forth-going  beauty 
that  so  enwraps  you  with  its  gracious  giving  that  you  half  forget 
to  ad-mire  at  all.  It  was  something  planetary  that  beamed  about 
her;  she  was  an  evening  star  in  the  western  glow.  There  are 
those  who  shine  as  suns  in  the  kingdom  of  all  radiances  ;  who 
seem  to  cover  their  personality  all  up  in  the  blessed  blinding  of 
an  effluent  light. 

But  to  him,  she  may  have  been  forthgoing.  If  Margaret  had 
not  been  by,  I  should  not  have  wondered  if  those  eight  years  or 
more  between  them  had  all  melted  away  out  of  both  their  mem 
ories  and  beliefs. 

I  dare  say  Mrs.  Regis  would  have  thought  me  as  mistaken  as 
I  thought  she  was.  She  would  have  said,  or  felt,  —  "  What  can 
you  know  ?  You,  merely  looking  on  ?  "  If  she  had  come  to  me 
with  every  syllable  that  General  Rushleigh  said  to  her  that 
morning,  —  with  all  that  he  had  ever  said,  or  looked,  or  seemed, 
—  I  could  not  have  interpreted  it  to  her. 

I  —  looking  on  —  had  observed  many  times  that  hovering 
expression  in  Paul  Rushleigh's  face,  and  manner,  and  voice, 
when  he  was  beside  Mrs.  Regis  ;  as  if  something  came  to  the 
very  edge  of  utterance  and  lingered  there  ;  as  if  something  that 
was  the  very  spring  and  spell  of  his  friendship  waited,  almost 
transparently,  for  a  fit  time  and  way  to  come  fully  forth.  And 
then  that  new  youth  and  blossoming  of  her  nature  lightened  in 
her  face  to  answer  it. 

It  was  going  to  be  hard  for  her,  whatever  way  it  ended.     Un- 


308  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

less  —  but  I  would  not  think  that  could  come,  now  that  he  had 
even  dreamed  —  a  dream  that  he  must  crush  —  of  this. 

They  were  gone  away  when  I  took  my  fingers  from  my  ears 
again ;  and  other  persons  had  come  into  their  place  upon  the 
cliff. 

There  were  voices, — a  man's  and  a  young  woman's,  —  talk 
ing  rapidly  in  French.  Perhaps  by  their  approach  they  had 
checked  and  interrupted  the  other  conversation. 

When  I  had  climbed  up  again,  which  I  began  to  do  instantly, 
hearing  the  new  steps  and  tones  drawing  nearer  down  the  zig 
zag,  —  (I  passed  at  the  turn  an  elderly  man  with  a  bright-faced 
companion  who  waited  for  my  slow  steps  with  a  slight  triumph 
in  her  younger  politeness,  and  who  said  something  in  her  own 
language  like  — "  It  is  not  yet  arrived  to  me  as  that,  my 
friend  !  ")  —  When  I  had  climbed  up  again,  I  was  going  to  say, 
I  saw  General  Rushleigh  and  Mrs.  Regis  quite  over  at  the 
southern  brow,  where  the  little  observatory  platform  is.  Edith 
and  Margaret  and  Emery  Ann  were  coming  up  from  the  front, 
and  moving  toward  them.  When  Margaret  saw  me,  she  left 
the  others  quickly,  and  joined  me. 

There  was  room  for  everybody.  We  stood  at  separate  points, 
and  watched  what  was  coming. 

A  white  sea  of  curling  mist,  drifting  slowly  between  the 
southward  mountains  and  our  own,  leaving  here  and  there  an 
island  summit  afar  off,  as  it  settled  below  us  to  the  valley,  but 
slowly  whirling,  gathering,  climbing,  toward  this  side,  and  up 
ward  again,  to  our  feet. 

Clear  blue  was  above  us  still,  —  the  sun  was  shining  gor 
geously,  and  the  vapory  mass  was  splendid-pure  with  upper 
glory ;  a  vast,  soft,  level-tossing,  downy-white  cloud-bed,  that 
fitted  and  filled,  with  its  swelling,  all  that  great  basin  as  it  swept 
across. 

Huge,  rounded  billows  of  it  began  to  roll  against  our  height ; 
they  came  toward  us  as  the  surf  comes ;  there  was  only  a  little 
point  of  Rhigi  left  above  the  beautiful  flood. 

And  then  it  surged  wet  against  our  faces ;  it  poured  above  us 
and  thickened  into  gray  :  we  were  drowned  in  it,  and  the  sun- 
Jight  was  put  out.  Its  fine  moisture  changed  to  drops  that  fell 


NOONTIDE  AND  MORNING   UPON  RHIGI.  309 

upon  us  ;  there  was  nothing  about  us  but  a  little  circle  of  rough 
rock  and  pasture  grass, —  mere  yard-room  round  the  dreary 
hotel  building.  We  were  out  in  a  pouring  rain,  and  must  go 
in. 

A  table  d'hote  dinner  with  a  crowd  of  people  ;  a  driving 
storm  outside ;  a  scudding  transit  after  eating  and  drinking  were 
over,  to  our  lodgings  in  the  de*pendance ;  an  early  going  to  bed, 
in  the  faint  hope  that  it  would  be  clear  by  day-break  ;  the  wind 
hurling  itself  madly  against  the  building,  of  which  we  occupied 
the  southeast  windy  corner ;  the  sleet  beginning  to  hiss  and  spit 
against  the  windows.  This  was  our  sunset  upon  Rhigi. 

Well,  —  we  had  had  the  beautiful  noontime  ;  and  we  had 
seen  how  the  storm  comes,  as  Emery  Ann  remarked,  "  when  it 
comes  upside  down." 

We  were  to  be  called  at  four,  —  if  there  were  a  sunrise. 
Emery  Ann  said  she  was  "  reconciled  either  way."  We  got  out 
extra  candles,  and  set  them  up  on  their  ends  without  candle 
sticks  ;  we  made  ourselves  cheerful  for  a  while  with  their  light, 
and  with  thinking,  by  their  suggestion,  what  if  the  hotel  should 
take  fire  and  burn  us  out  into  the  tempest  ?  We  hoped  every 
body  would  be  careful,  and  we  pinched  out  our  wicks  conscien 
tiously,  tucked  ourselves  up  under  all  our  blankets  and  water 
proofs,  and  forgot  that  we  were  trembling  in  a  great  wind  on  a 
stormy  peak  five  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 

There  were  no  horns  blown,  or  bells  rung,  at  sunrise  ;  the 
sleet  still  fumed  and  spattered  at  the  panes  ;  we  became  semi 
conscious,  and  resigned  ourselves  again  to  oblivion.  It  was 
seven  when  we  arose,  and  found  that  the  storm  had  ceased,  and 
a  bright  sun,  that  had  risen  behind  it,  was  shining. 

"  Well,"  said  Emery  Ann  ;  "  there  's  no  hurry  now ;  it 's  all 
over." 

But  General  Rushleigh  knocked  at  our  door. 

"  There  is  something  better  than  the  sunrise,"  said  he  ;  and 
we  made  haste  to  go  and  see  it. 

Mrs.  Regis  had  a  headache.  I  dare  say  she  had  not  slept 
much.  She  said  she  would  be  out  soon,  however.  Margaret 
was  dressed,  and  joined  us  as  we  came  from  our  rooms. 

When  we  walked   round  the  end   of  the  house  toward  the 


310  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

morning  quarter,  and  General  Rushleigh  who  was  standing 
there  heard  our  voices  and  turned  to  come  and  meet  us,  I  hardly 
noticed  even  him  at  the  first  moment,  in  the  heaven-wide  marvel 
I  found  myself  surrounded  with.  Much  less  did  I  observe  how 
it  was  that  Margaret  had  left  my  side  and  gone  to  stand  by  her 
self  on  the  high  bluff  northward. 

General  Rushleigh  did  not  undertake  to  show,  or  to  tell  us  ;  ho 
did  not  speak  at  all  of  it.  as  a  common  person  would  have  done. 
He  gave  me  his  arm,  —  I  suppose,  for  I  found  myself  standing 
at  the  edge  and  holding  by  it,  —  and  walked  forward  with  me, 
face  to  face  with  that  from  which  the  dun  curtain  of  the  tempest 
had  rolled  clear  away. 

Yesterday  we  had  seen  the  great  distant  summits,  here  and 
there,  that  wear  perpetual  royalty  of  snow ;  between,  and  hith- 
erward,  had  been  the  wide,  tumultuous  heaving  of  lesser  hills, 
covered  with  rich  forest  glooms,  or  bare  with  storm-worn,  sun- 
bleached  faces  of  bleak  gray  ;  now,  wide  around  us,  the  mount 
ains,  like  Atlantic  waves  when  the  gale  has  blown,  all  had  their 
gleaming  crests  on.  The  great  circuit  —  of  fifty  miles  radius 
—  was  a  pure,  dazzling  chain  of  sharply  charactered  white  cones, 
on  which  the  new  day  poured  illimitable  glory. 

"  It  was  not  for  nothing !  "  ejaculated  Emery  Ann,  after  the 
first  few  moments'  silence. 

"  We  have  got  better  than  we  came  for,"  I  said  to  General 
Rushleigh. 

As  I  turned  my  face  toward  him,  I  saw  that  his  was  turned 
aside.  I  followed  his  look,  and  it  led  me  to  Margaret.  She 
was  beyond  us,  at  the  left,  standing  upon  a  point  whence  she 
could  see  both  ways,  —  across  the  Goldau  Valley,  and  forth 
over  this  white  environment  of  the  Alp-Ocean. 

The  wind  swept  freshly  past  her  ;  her  dress  blew  back  from 
her  figure ;  she  had  dropped  her  clasped  hands  before  her,  and 
her  eyes  looked  off  steadfastly  into  the  sublime  distance,  their 
moveless  lids  beautiful  with  seeing ;  from  beneath  their  awed 
level,  her  glance  streamed  straight  eastward ;  the  bright  light 
was  full  upon  her  forehead. 

She  had  hastily  twisted  her  hair  in  one  great  loose  knot,  and 
caught  it  with  a  single  pin  ;  this  had  slidden  from  its  hold,  and 


NOONTIDE  AND   MORNING   UPON  RHIGI.  311 

the  wind  had  uncoiled  the  long,  rich  veil  of  it,  and  floated  it 
back  upon  her  shoulders.  Her  little  hat,  with  its  single  curling 
feather,  rested  upon  it  and  held  it  from  further  disorder,  while 
it  crowned,  as  it  were,  her  attitude,  superb  in  grace,  and  sweet 
with  reverence. 

General  Rushleigh  became  conscious  that  I  watched  her  too. 

"  She  is  a  picture  in  herself,"  he  said  to  me.  "  The  reflex  of 
it  all  is  in  her  face,  —  her  aspect." 

"  Yes.  But  she  would  come  straight  out  of  it  if  she  im 
agined  we  were  looking." 

"  I  know  she  would,"  he  returned.  "  I  never  met  a  person 
who  more  thoroughly  shunned  all  mere  effect." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  see  that,"  I  answered.  "  She  even  does 
herself  injustice  by  it,  oftentimes." 

"  I  have  seen  that,  too,"  he  replied. 

"I  was  sure  that  you  could  look  beyond.  But  I  think  —  she 
has  somehow  got  a  fancy  —  that  you  are  turned  aside  from  her 
in  your  liking  —  your  friendliness,"  I  blurted  forth,  half  invol 
untarily. 

"  Miss  Patience ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  he  moved  suddenly 
away  with  me  upon  his  arm,  —  cannot  you  see  beyond  ?  Can 
not  you  understand,  —  with  your  wisdom  —  your  conscientious 
ness  ?  —  I  am  thrown  very  intimately  with  her.  A  man  —  a 
young  girl  —  in  the  midst  of  whatever  pleasantness,  one  can 
not  be  too  careful  to  be  true  !  " 

With  all  his  truth,  he  certainly  did  manage  to  be  enigmatical. 

What  was  he  so  conscientious  about?  Was  it  Margaret's 
ties,  or  Margaret's  self? 

I  could  not  ask  him  that.  But  I  felt  myself  blush,  as  Mar 
garet  might  have  done ;  for  the  instant,  womanly  fear  lest  he 
might  have  seen  —  a  possibility  that  I  knew  Margaret  had  no 
wakened  consciousness  of.  Could  it  be  that  he  scrupled  with 
her,,for  her  sake,  or  the  sake  of  the  world's  too  ready  obser 
vation,  while  he  had  passed  the  question  of  scruple  with  himself 
as  regarded  her  mother  ? 

I  was  as  quickly  ingenious  in  apprehension  as  if  it  were  I 
with  whom  there  was  need  of  care.  I  was  dumb  with  it  for  a 
moment ;  I  could  not  answer  a  word. 


312  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

While  I  stood,  hot  and  inwardly  confused,  —  wondering,  with 
al,  if  my  own  meddling  words  were  not  rebuked  by  his,  —  he 
began  to  speak  again. 

"  I  might  talk  with  you,  perhaps,  if  you  would  let  me ;  and 
yet  —  perhaps  it  is  better  not,"  he  said;  and  we  walked  on 
slowly,  not  much  heeding  whither  we  went. 

For  my  part,  Rose,  I  never  was  quite  so  nearly  in  it,  before. 
I  think  I  was  a  fool.  I  think  I  might  have  said  something,  — 
have  given  him  some  leave.  I  might  have  said,  —  I  wonder  I 
did  not  blunder  upon  it,  —  as  Mrs.  Regis  did,  —  "I  am  your 
friend ;  you  may  tell  me  anything."  But  I  had  not  got  over 
the  first  surprise  and  scare. 

"  Perhaps  you  see  that  it  is  better  not,"  he  resumed,  quietly, 
misinterpreting  my  silence.  "  You  are  sure  to  see  rightly." 

"  No,  indeed,"  I  said  then,  impetuously.  "  I  do  not  see.  I  do 
not  understand,  at  all.  And  —  I  cannot  ask  you  questions. 
But  —  I  thank  you  for  believing  in  me  ;  and  —  I  am  sure  you 
may."  It  did  not  occur  to  me  till  afterward,  that,  connected 
with  what  he  had  just  said,  my  speech  might  sound  very  like  an 
assertion  of  infallibility.  But  he  was  too  intent  upon  his  own 
real  meaning,  as  I  was  upon  mine,  for  any  quibbling. 

"  Even  selfishly,"  he  said,  "  I  should  wait.  One  cannot  afford 
to  lose  all.  Beside  the  wrong  that  it  might  be,  there  is  all 
else ;  the  difference,  —  the  strangeness  that  it  might  seem  to 
her,  —  no ;  time  and  right  may  come  together,  but  any  way, 
Mrs.  Regis  —  and  her  daughter  —  must  remain  my  friends.  I 
am  afraid  I  have  told  you  too  much,  Miss  Patience ;  but  your 
own  words  led  me,  and  I  think  everybody  turns  to  you." 

I  wonder  what  he  thought  he  had  told  me  !  Is  that  the  way 
they  do  ?  How  does  anybody  ever  understand  ? 

We  had  wandered  down  very  near  the  house  again.  Mrs. 
Regis  came  out,  around  the  corner,  against  the  wind.  I 
dropped  my  hand  from  General  Rushleigh's  arm,  and  he  went 
to  meet  her. 

After  I  had  just  said  "  good  morning,"  I  took  myself  away  to 
Emery  Ann.  Edith  and  Margaret  had  got  together. 

The  other  two  walked  out  along  the  brow  of  the  mountain. 

The  cold,  clear  dazzle  of  the  sun  struck  into  my  eyes.    Emery 


NOONTIDE   AND  MORNING  UPON  RHIGI.  313 

Ann  had  an  open  sunshade.  I  suppose  I  put  my  hand  out  and 
deliberately  took  it  from  hers,  as  I  might  have  picked  it  up  if  it 
had  been  lying  upon  the  ground.  I  had  n't  the  least  idea  of 
what  I  did  or  saw  for  the  next  three  minutes. 

When  I  began  to  come  to,  I  found  myself  staring  at  the  scal 
loped  edges  of  the  silk,  as  I  held  the  parasol  exactly  between 
my  face  and  all  creation  beside.  Emery  Ann  stood  by  me, 
blinking. 

"  Did  I  take  this  away  from  you  ? "  I  asked  her  somnam- 
bulistically. 

"  Yes,  you  did,"  returned  my  friend  and  handmaid.  "  'T  ain't 
any  matter  ;  only  I  desire  to  hope  you  ain't  getting  betwattled 
too  !  Or  three,  finally." 

Emery  Ann  is  not  a  bit  nearsighted. 


314  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A  FERN  LEAF. 


.  .  .  .WE  had  five  minutes  to  spare,  in  the  pleasant  wood' 
shade  at  the  Rhigi  foot. 

Margaret,  who  always  finds  fourleaved  clovers,  and  rare 
blossoms,  and  curious  pebbles,  and  the  oddest,  tiniest,  filmiest, 
ferns  —  had  a  handful  when  we  walked  down  to  the  boat,  that 
came  steaming  through  the  lovely  strait  between  the  "  Nasen," 
and  puffed  up  to  the  little  Vitznau  landing. 

General  Rushleigh  had  walked  on  to  the  hotel,  and  the  por 
ters  met  us  at  the  pier  with  our  light  luggage. 

Down  under  the  great  ribs  and  folds  and  craggy  upshoots  of 
Pilatus,  past  the  aisles  of  Stanstad  and  Kiissnacht,  we  floated 
on  the  gold-green  water  that,  out  from  the  mountain  shadows, 
grew  verd-azure  in  the  sun.  Margaret  sat  by  me,  and  laid  her 
ferns  and  flowers  between  the  leaves  of  her  Baedeker. 

General  Rushleigh  left  Edith  and  Emery  Ann  and  Mrs. 
Regis  all  together  at  the  stern,  just  after  we  rounded  the  Meg- 
genhorn,  and  came  and  fetched  a  camp-stool  to  the  quarter 
guards  where  we  were. 

I  retreated  a  little  behind  my  sunshade,  —  my  own  parasol, 
"  finally,"  this  time,  —  as  he  placed  himself  on  Margaret's  other 
side,  and  began  to  look  quietly  over  while  she  arranged  the  del 
icate  fronds.  She  had  nearly  finished. 

He  waited  till  the  very  last  was  going  in  ;  then  he  said,  quite 
straightforwardly  and  simply  :  — 

"  Miss  Margaret,  will  you  give  me  that  little  Rhigi  fern  ?  " 

"  Surely  I  will,"  and  she  withdrew  it  from  the  book,  and  laid 
it  into  his  hand. 

He  opened  his  own  guide-book  to  the  panorama  of  the  Rhigi- 
Kulm,  placed  the  fern  within  its  middle  folding  and  then 
eaid :  — 


A   FERN   LEAF.  315 

"  I  must  beg  for  one  thing  more  ;  a  little  pin,  to  make  it  fast." 

Margaret  took  from  her  pocket  a  small  pincushion,  and  held  it 
for  him.  He  found  the  cluster  of  least  size  among  its  neat  as- 
sortings,  and  took  one  which  he  put  through  the  doubled  leaf  so 
as  to  catch  and  hold  firmly  the  stem  within  it. 

"  That  is  the  keepsake  of  a  wonderful  place,  and  of  all  these 
pleasant,  friendly  days,"  he  said.  "  It  is  better  than  to  have 
gathered  it  myself." 

Margaret  spoke  out  with  a  wonderful  sweet  honesty,  in 
answer. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  asked  me  for  it,"  she  said,  "  Because  I 
think,  now,  I  have  not  offended  you  in  anything." 

"  Offended  me  !  You,  Miss  Margaret !  "  said  Paul  Rushleigh, 
taken  almost  off  his  guard,  though  I  feel  sure  he  had  allowed 
himself  this  little  favor-asking  just  because  of  what  I  myself 
had  put  in  his  mind,  and  because  he  felt  he  had  at  least  a  right 
to  do  away  that  thought  with  her,  if  it  existed.  "  You  cannot 
possibly  have  thought  so  ?  " 

"  No.  Not  in  the  ordinary  way,  maybe.  I  did  not  think  ex 
actly  that.  I  did  not  see  how  I  could  have.  But  —  I  am  glad 
you  can  say  '  friendly  '  to  me.  That  you  have  n't  disliked  me." 

"  Disliked  you !  I  beg  your  pardon  for  repeating  your  words. 
But  they  surprise  me  so.  Did  ever  anybody  dislike  you,  Miss 
Margaret  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  you  said  just  '  No,'  "  she  persisted,  with  her 
pure,  earnest  frankness.  And  then  she  added,  simply,  "  for  I  had 
counted  you  for  a  friend." 

"  No !  Indeed,  no  !  If  you  thought  that  for  a  moment,  I 
thank  you  very  much  for  asking  me.  Count  me  for  your  friend. 
I  shall  remember  that  you  said  it.  Such  words  keep.  Per 
haps  —  when  life  has  settled  some  things  for  us  both,  —  for  all, 
—  I  may  be  able  to  remind  you  of  them.  Or  —  when  it  has 
settled  all  things ;  when  the  fogs  have  all  drifted  down." 

What  did  he  say  "  for  all,"  for  ?     And  who  were  "  all  ?  " 

I  felt  a  great  impulse  to  have  a  sudden  indispensable  errand 
^0  Emery  Ann,  or  somebody  in  that  group  on  and  in  the  stern. 
But  I  sat  still,  for  fear  he  should  not,  if  I  moved.  For  fear, 
also,  otherwise,  of  making  a  tete-a-tete  apparent  to  eyes  that 
might  not  be  quite  gratified. 


316  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

Margaret  made  no  further  answer.  What  her  face  said,  —  so 
luminous-clear  always,  —  I  could  guess.  There  was  no  danger 
that  it  should  say,  or  he  interpret,  anything  that  her  most 
modest  dignity  could  be  sorry  for.  There  was  nothing  below 
that  dignity  that  could  rise  through  it  to  betray  itself. 

There  began  to  be  a  bustle  of  gathering  up  wraps  and  traps. 
Somebody's  satchel  was  between  our  chairs  ;  we  rose  to  let  the 
owner  take  it.  Passengers  moved  about,  and  took  their  stands 
for  disembarking ;  our  own  party  drew  together ;  in  ten  minutes 
more  we  were  at  the  pretty  Hotel  Rhigi,  where  we  had  chosen 
to  seek  rooms  rather  than  at  the  great,  elegant,  showy  Schweit- 
zerhof,  where  we  had  sat  for  an  hour  on  the  Saturday  afternoon, 
and  seen  the  pomp  of  the  table  d'hote,  and  the  dresses  that 
trailed  out  to  it  through  the  spacious  anteroom  where  we  had 
waited. 

I  think  General  Rushleigh  had  business  at  his  banker's  and 
letters  to  write.  We  saw  little  of  him,  any  more,  until  he  came 
to  say  the  mere  good-bye. 

"  I  do  not  say  it  for  very  long,"  said  Mrs.  Regis,  with  her 
hand  in  his.  "  I  feel  sure  you  will  find  us  again  in  Italy." 

There  was  a  renewed  pressure  of  her  hand,  for  reply,  before 
he  let  it  go.  But  he  made  no  other  answer. 


THE  HEM   OF   A   STORM.  317 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  HEM  OF  A  STORM. 


....  I  RESOLVED  that  I  would  say  something  to  Mrs.  Regis 
of  what  I  thought  I  discerned  in  the  matter  of  General  Rush- 
leigh's  friendship.  I  would  do  it  if  the  evident  opportunity 
came,  but  I  would  not  make  an  opportunity,  or  force  it  in  any 
way.  I  would  take  no  thought  about  it  beforehand,  beyond  this, 
—  that  I  quite  made  up  my  mind  it  would  be  right  to  speak, 
upon  occasion. 

The  occasion  did  not  come  while  we  remained  in  Lucerne. 
The  most  that  I  was  able  to  do  during  the  four  days  that  we 
waited,  —  partly  to  receive  our  letters,  for  which  we  had  tele 
graphed  to  Geneva,  where  was  now  our  banking  address,  and 
partly  for  absolutely  necessary  repose,  —  was  to  walk  out  tho 
little  distance  to  the  Lake  shore  with  Emery  Ann,  and  sit  upon 
the  pier,  watching  the  tints  and  shadows  upon  huge,  manifold 
Pilatus,  and  the  light  upon  the  distant,  snowy  Engelbergs. 

Mrs.  Regis  and  Margaret  drove  and  walked  about  continually, 
taking  Edith  usually  with  them.  They  were  very  busy  about 
carvings,  having  large  boxes  of  new  purchases  packed  here,  as 
they  had  done  at  Rosenlaui,  to  be  shipped  home  to  New  York. 

Once  more  we  sailed  up  the  lovely  green  water,  deeper  into 
its  enchanted  recesses  ;  tracing,  now,  every  bend  and  inlet  to  its 
farthest  point,  —  passing  down  the  narrow  southern  stretch  called 
the  Lake  of  Uri,  which  opens  beyond  Rhigi,  through  the  close 
little  aperture  of  the  Nasen,  into  the  very  heart  of  the  cliffs,  like 
a  beautiful  water-cavern. 

Enormous  precipices  wall  it  in  ;  the  clear,  blue  ceils  it  over  ; 
the  dark-forested  promontories  reach  their  feet  into  it,  and  stand 
there,  hiding  its  one  part  from  another. 

You  go  winding  through  its  still  and  shadowy   vaults,  from 


318  SIGHTS   AND   INSIGHTS. 

which,  through  the  long  gorges  that  open  away  from  them,  you 
sometimes  see  the  white,  distant  heights  ;  these  far  glimpses  only 
emphasizing  the  wonderful,  vague  impression  of  threading  an 
illimitable  mystery,  —  a  wild,  dreamlike,  world-separate  gran 
deur. 

You  pass  another  Chapel  of  Tell ;  a  little  frescoed  building 
standing  among  the  thick  trees  at  a  huge  mountain-foot ;  put 
there,  they  say,  in  memory  of  the  patriot,  on  the  very  spot  where 
he  sprang  out  of  Gessler's  boat,  in  the  storm,  and  made  his  es 
cape  into  the  wild  passes  of  the  hills  to  watch  for  his  revenge. 

At  the  very  end,  under  the  last,  really  closing  cliffs,  lies 
Fliielen. 

We  had  telegraphed  for  carriages  here,  to  take  us  through  to 
Lugano.  We  found  them  ready,  and  immediately  upon  landing 
we  set  off  up  the  long  defiles  of  the  valley  of  the  Reuss  toward 
Andermatt  and  Hospenthal  and  the  Pass  of  the  St.  Gotthard. 

We  had  given  up  Zermatt.  The  changeable  weather,  —  the 
sudden  falls  of  rain,  —  showed  that  the  season  was  breaking. 
It  was  too  exhausting  and  hazardous  a  journey  for  a  party  of 
ladies  to  undertake  in  the  face  of  so  much  uncertainty  as  to  its 
satisfying  result ;  Emery  Ann  declared  to  me,  privately,  after  I 
had  said  in  general  council  that  I  felt  it  impossible,  that  she  was 
"  really  wappered  out  with  mountains  ;  but  she  presumed  she 
should  have  kept  on  and  said  nothing  if  I  liad ;  only  if  she  did 
come  to  a  sudden  conclusion  in  spite  of  herself,  up  on  some 
Horn,  or  Gorn,  or  Grat,  —  she  should  not  mind  so  much  for  her 
own  part,  but  she  was  concerned  to  know  what  we  would  do 
with  her  then  !  " 

We  telegraphed  to  Brieg,  to  which  point  our  small  boxes  left 
at  St.  Maurice  were  to  have  been  forwarded,  and  ordered  them 
sent  on  to  us  at  Lugano ;  also  we  wrote  in  like  manner  for  our 
big  trunks,  to  the  Geneva  bankers. 

Two  more  days,  and  the  Alps  would  be  behind  us  forever. 

We  had  lovely  morning  weather,  and  a  delightful  drive  as  far 
as  Amsteg,  where  we  cracked  through  the  narrow  street  to  the 
small  inn-entrance  in  the  usual  noisy  voiture  fashion,  dined 
drearily,  and  saw  an  enormous  quartz  crystal,  as  big  —  as  a  four- 
quart  bucket. 


THE   HEM   OF   A   STORM.  319 

Mrs.  Regis  asked  me  to  ride  with  her  in  the  afternoon,  from 
Amsteg  to  Hospenthal ;  sending  Margaret  to  sit  with  Edith. 

And  this  was  my  opportunity,  and  a  clear  bidding. 

She  wanted  to  talk  with  me  about  our  plans  in  Italy ;  our 
stay  at  Lugano,  especially,  which  she  was  inclined  to  make  a  set 
tling  down  of  several  weeks. 

I  was  only  too  anxious  for  pause  and  quiet,  after  all  that  I 
had  been  doing  and  receiving.  We  were  going  over  this  Alp- 
boundary  into  another  —  and  altogether  different  —  world  of 
wonders.  I  could  not  rush  straight  from  mountains  and  glaciers 
to  cathedrals  and  picture-galleries.  Between  Switzerland  and 
Italy,  —  as  some  think  between  this  life  and  our  next  to  come,  — 
there  needs,  and  is,  an  intermediate  state,  in  this  very  reposeful 
Elysium  of  the  Swiss-Italian  lakes. 

I  was  quite  ready  to  acquiesce  in  Mrs.  Regis's  suggestions, 
though  I  felt  pretty  sure  that  with  her  there  was  also  an  inner 
argument,  which  when  it  occurred  to  me,  I  could  not  disavow 
even  in  my  own  mind. 

General  Rushleigh  would  undoubtedly  come  down  into  Italy 
by  the  St.  Gotthard  Pass.  Of  course  there  were  Como  and 
Maggiore,  as  well  as  Lugano  ;  but,  if  we  still  remained  at  the 
latter,  — my  thought  sprang  hither  and  thither,  seized  this  and 
that  together,  and  made  divine  possibilities  out  of  them. 

The  lovely,  still  October,  in  that  delicious  land  of  summer  fra 
grance  ;  of  flower-flush  and  fruit-ripening,  —  of  the  fig  and  the 
grape  and  the  nectarine,  the  oleander  and  the  orange  bloom, 
and  the  laurel,  —  of  cloudless  skies,  and  tender  shades,  and 
dreamy  waters,  —  of  day-long  idleness,  and  nights  of  music,  —  I 
grew  silly  and  romantic,  Rose,  thinking  of  what  it  might  be  to 
these  younger  lives;  of  what  it  might  be  laid  out  to  be. 

For,  —  another  thing  —  among  all  the  letters  that  had  come 
to  our  whole  party  at  Lucerne,  there  had  not  been  any  from 
either  Harry  or  Flora  Mackenzie  to  Margaret  Regis.  Something 
might  be  coming  of  it  which  should  free  her.  Free  her  to  the 
knowledge  of  that  to  which  she  would  not  open  her  eyes.  Or, 
—  for  I,  looking  down  upon  this  thing  in  the  light  in  which  it 
lay  to  me,  could  not  feel,  even  as  I  ought,  perhaps,  that  there 
was  anything  in  that  false  half-bond  to  stand  for  a  moment 


320  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

against  the  rush  of  a  living  truth  when  it  should  come,  —  the 
truth  itself  demanding  search  and  trial  and  acknowledgment  of  all 
things,  should  descend  into  her  life  and  set  her  free,  by  very 
faith,  deeper  than  mere  wordkeeping. 

Yet  I  trembled  to  touch  with  a  finger  of  influence  the  straws 
of  circumstance.  Jackstraws  of  human  fate  one  cannot  play 
with.  I  was  sure  all  this  occurred  to  me  beside  and  after  the 
other  plentiful  and  almost  imperative  reasons. 

When,  after  a  good  deal  of  previous  talk,  General  Rushleigh's 
name  was  spoken  by  Mrs.  Regis  with  a  quiet  friendly  frankness, 
and  she  remarked  that  she  should  be  glad  if  it  happened  that  he 
joined  our  party  again,  —  it  was  so  much  nicer,  altogether,  to 
say  nothing  of  cordial  liking,  to  have  a  gentleman  to  refer  to,  — 
I  did  suggest  that  it  was  "  different,  however,  his  attaching  him 
self  to  us  here,  at  hotels  and  in  cities,  from  joining  escort  among 
the  Alps ;  that  people  would  imagine,  perhaps,  and  observe  ; 
there  were  always  conclusions  drawn ;  did  she  think  he  would 
be  likely  —  unless,  as  indeed  she  had  perhaps  also  noticed  "  — 

It  was  easy  enough  to  interrupt  me.  I  stumbled  a  good  deal. 
But  her  —  "Noticed  what,  Miss  Strong?"  was  quick  and  sharp 
for  the  elegant  Mrs.  Regis.  It  brought  me  to  the  bravery  of 
plain  truth,  which  I  had  resolved  to  speak. 

Let  her  take  it  as  she  might,  —  let  it  affect  her  action  as  it 
might,  —  I  was  sure  it  was  in  the  clear  and  honest  order.  For 
the  two  opposing  interpretations  of  things  which  had  come  to 
me,  were  making  me,  to  myself,  in  the  daily  confidence  and  pre 
sumed  understanding  with  all,  as  if  I  were  double-minded. 

"  I  have  noticed,"  I  said  with  quiet  directness,  "  his  manner 
with  Margaret.  I  think,  if  there  were  nothing  in  the  way,  he 
would  —  not  leave  it  to  be  merely  noticed." 

"  Margaret !  That  child  !  Miss  Strong,  you  are  utterly  mis 
taken.  I  have  had  them  with  me  continually.  I  assure  you, 
you  are  altogether  in  the  wrong." 

"  I  thought  you  ought  to  know  it,  Mrs.  Regis,"  I  went  on, 
just  as  if  she  had  not  spoken  her  emphatic  contradiction.  "  I 
mean,  I  thought  I  ought  to  tell  you  how  I  saw  it.  For  it  might 
rest,  very  much,  even  unconsciously,  with  you.  You  have  been 
anxious  about  Margaret,  /think  she  is  under  a  mistake,  which 


THE  HEM   OF   A   STORM.  321 

she  will  live  beyond.  I  am  not  afraid  for  her,  for  she  is  wait 
ing  ;  she  is  taking  one  true  step  at  a  time.  It  will  be  put  right 
for  her.  But  my  true  step  was  to  tell  it  to  you.  There  will  be 
some  right  thing  for  you  to  be  careful  for.  You  yourself  will 
be  able  to  see  what  it.  is.  I  believe  no  one  ever  misses  a  real 
good  who  does  not  personally  —  or  for  whom  some  other  does 
not  —  fall  into  a  wrong,  or  fail  of  a  right,  for  which,  and  its 
consequences,  they  are  responsible.  That  is  why  this  living  of 
ours  is  such  an  accountable  —  and  yet  such  a  child-dependent  — 
thing.  It  seems  to  me  —  and  I  feel  as  if  I  could  trust  the  in 
sight,  even  if  there  were  nothing  else  —  that  a  great  good  and 
happiness  waits  now  between  Margaret  and  General  Rushleigh. 
And  I  think  —  I  am  sure  —  that  he  is,  at  this  moment,  under 
some  partial  mistake." 

"  General  Rushleigh  is  in  intimate  friendship  with  myself, 
Miss  Strong."  She  repeated  my  name  as  people  do,  when  their 
attitude  is  over  against,  not  with  you ;  so  that  your  objective 
personality  is  prominent  to  them,  and  they  feel  it  well  to  make 
it  obvious  to  yourself.  "  I  think  I  have  opportunities  for  under 
standing  him  very  thoroughly,  however  it  may  be  as  to  Mar 
garet.  And  it  would,  at  any  rate,  be  such  a  preposterous  thing  ! 
A  man  of  his  age,  and  gravity,  and  a  girl  like  her.  She  is  uu- 
fit  for  him.  She  could  give  him  nothing  but  a  girl's  fancy." 

Mrs.  Regis  did  not  know,  I  think,  the  faint  breath  of  empha 
sis  she  gave  the  pronoun.  "  How  could  she  value  him,  even  ? 
Three  months  ago,  she  was  mad  for  Harry  Mackenzie  !  " 

I  answered  the  first  part  of  her  objection. 

"  What  can  the  spring  give  but  its  blossoms  ? "  said  I. 
"  Sweetness,  and  freshness,  and  a  blossoming  wisdom,  are  what 
a  man  looks  for,  if  he  is  ever  so  wise ;  the  wiser,  the  more, 
maybe.  A  woman  of  his  own  age  would  be  old  as  he  is  not. 
You  would  not  have  him  marry  a  woman  of  forty  ?  " 

If  I  had  not  believed  in  Mrs.  Regis,  more  than  she  yet  knew 
how  to  believe  in  herself,  I  should  not  have  spoken  so,  or  have 
entered  into  this  conversation  at  all.  If  I  had  been  a  woman  in 
a  story-book,  having  to  do  with  the  stereotyped  selfish  ma- 
nceuvrer  of  it,  I  should  never  have  put  the  whole  thing  in  her 
hands  in  such  way.  But  I  do  not  think  we  are  set  in  this  world 
21 


322  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

to  live  such  story  books  as  wrong  and  unwise  people  are  forever 
making.  I  do  not  think  our  human  business  is  to  outwit  and 
circumvent  each  other.  I  believe  in  introverting ;  in  making 
straight  for  the  truest,  livingest  part  of  people ;  the  part  that 
God  lays  hold  of. 

We  are  to  overcome  evil  with  good.  Our  good  ?  No,  phari- 
see !  The  good  that  lies  there  under  the  evil ;  ready  to  be 
touched  and  worked  upon.  Yet  our  evil  cannot  reach  it,  'cer 
tainly. 

Mrs.  Regis  might  contradict  me  now  ;  I  expected  it ;  but  she 
could  not  contradict  that  which  would  continue  to  say  itself. 

I  did  not  say  boldly  what  I  did  about  a  woman  of  forty,  for 
the  sake  of  any  sharp  home-thrust.  I  did  not  mean  insolence. 
I  did  not  pre-suppose  anything  to  be  insolent  about.  I  put 
myself  right  beside  her,  in  her  own  attitude  of  friendship  for 
General  Rushleigh,  and  spoke  what  she  might  see.  I  spoke  it 
fearlessly  without  hint ;  for  I  hate  hinting.  I  set  in  a  clear 
light,  as  well  as  I  could,  what  it  was  a  great  deal  best  should  be 
apparent  to  her,  and  that  she  should  be  reminded  was  apparent 
to  the  world. 

This  was  what  she  answered  me. 

"  A  woman  of  forty,  —  or  of  fifty,"  —  she  left  her  own  age  in 
the  chasm  she  leaped  defiantly,  — "  can  have  sweetness  and 
freshness,  —  if  life  gives  her  a  chance." 

She  almost  pleaded.  She  forgot  altogether,  the  confession 
that  might  be  in  her  words.  She  was  making  her  stand  for 
heart-youth  and  hope  that  will  not  perish,  against  the  inexorable 
years.  Do  you  suppose  I  could  not  feel  with  her  ?  Do  you 
suppose  the  great  possible  fulfillment  is  so  buried  under  my  own 
almost  half  century  of  denial,  that  I  could  not  ?  But  I  said  to 
her  what  I  would  say  to  my  own  self. 

"Not  those  chances.  Her  sweetness  is  for  the  second  summer 
time.  Let  her  lay  it  up  before  the  Lord.  It  would  not  be 
seemly,  I  think,  to  give  it  to  a  young  man.  It  would  turn  to 
something  different.  And  she  would  rob  some  Margaret,  with 
all  her  years  before  her.  That  is  what  I  believe  about  it." 

A  look,  different  from  what  I  had  ever  seen  before  in  Mrs. 
Regis's  face,  came  over  it  as  I  spoke.  I  think  she  felt  a  sudden 


THE   HEM   OF   A   STORM.  323 

clear  recognition,   inward  and  outward,  of  obstacle  and  incon- 

O 

gruity.  There  was  a  stab  in  her  heart,  and  a  wall  against  her 
way.  And  one  plain  stone  in  that  wall  had  just  been  laid  there. 
There  was  one  woman  in  the  world  beside  herself,  —  there  was 
I,  Patience  Strong,  —  who  would  see  all  the  wrong  and  the  un- 
fitness  if  she  ever  crossed  that  barrier  now. 

With  that  sudden  expression,  there  passed  also  the  first  look 
of  age  that  I  had  ever  detected  in  her,  across  her  features. 

She  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  —  a  motion  that  was  as  if 
ending  the  conversation,  —  and  sat  perfectly  silent,  with  her 
face  turned  away  toward  the  mountains.  The  mist  was  falling 
down  upon  them.  The  hem  of  a  storm  swept  their  tops. 

I  could  not  tell  whether  she  was  offended  with  me  and  meant 
to  show  it,  or  whether  the  strong  grasp  of  her  own  thoughts 
drew  her  away  into  a  solitude  in  which  she  utterly  forgot  me. 
Whatever  it  might  be,  I  could  but  sit  silent  also. 

Much  must  have  possessed  her  during  those  many  moments 
in  which  neither  of  us  moved.  The  key  to  her  conclusion,  — 
whatever  the  train  or  conflict  that  led  to  it,  —  appeared  in  her 
first  following  words. 

"  I  return,  Miss  Strong,  to  my  first  convictions.  I  think  still 
that  you  are  utterly  mistaken.  I  have  reason  to  think  so  which 
I  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  explain  to  you  now.  But  I  agree 
with  you  in  one  thing.  I  think  General  Rushleigh  left  us  under 
a  slight  mistake.  That  has  occurred  to  me  before.  It  will  be 
my  business  to  see  that  it  is  rectified.  I  shall  write  to  him  from 
Lugano.  If  he  comes  back  to  us,  things  shall  be  made  plain." 

She  spoke  from  a  vantage.  She  uttered  a  measured  oracle, 
of  which  in  her  own  reserved  consciousness  she  seemed  to  hold 
the  clew.  I  should  see  by  and  by.  She  did  not  feel  called  upon 
to  speak  fully  to  me  now.  I  was  put  back  into  my  outside 
place.  She  just  gave  me  something  to  remember  when  things 
should  have  turned  out.  I  could  see  that  she  resumed  —  or 
resolved  to  resume —  her  own  position;  and  that  some  solution 
which  gave  a  test  into  her  hands  had  presented  or  renewed  it 
self  to  her  mind  in  regard  to  that  which  had  already  perplexed 
her.  This  occurred  to  me  from  what  she  said  next. 

"  General  Rushleigh  is    not  a  very  rich   man,  perhaps  you 


324  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

know?  His  father's  estate  cannot  be  wholly  settled  in  tho  life 
time  of  his  mother,  and  the  share  he  is  to  receive  meanwhile 
depends  upon  the  uncertain  and  gradual  sale  of  some  extensive, 
but  complicated,  real  property." 

She  told  me  that  too,  as  if  she  gave  me  something  to  think 
of,  another  half  to  which  might  be  somewhere,  and  might  yet 
come  round  to  me. 

I  took -it  as 'she  gave  it  to  me,  and  put  it  by.  I  have,  as 
Emery  Ann  expressed  it  of  somebody  we  both  know  who  has 
not,  —  a  belaying  pin  in  my  head. 

I  had  no  idea  it  meant  that  he  could  not  afford  to  marry  ; 
that  even  supposing  he  could  take  Margaret  with  her  step 
mother's  consent,  and  her  marriage  portion,  he  would  not  be 
able,  yet,  to  place  and  take  care  of  her  as  she  had  been  placed 
and  cared  for  hitherto ;  that,  in  short  according  to  the  vulgar 
phrase  and  vulgar  reasons,  he  was  "  not  a  marrying  man." 
Still  less,  —  at  any  rate  quite  as  little,  —  did  I  do  Mrs.  Regis 
the  coarse  injustice  of  understanding  her  words  as  a  threat  of 
again  withholding  arbitrarily  her  approval,  and  cutting  Margaret 
off  with  at  best  only  her  "  little  twenty -five  thousand  dollars." 

No.  There  was  some  other  inference  from  the  fact  she  men 
tioned  ;  something  which  might  touch  far  differently  General 
Rushleigh's  motive,  —  such  motive  as  a  man  like  him  could 
have,  —  and  withhold  him  from  action  that  he  otherwise  might 
take.  It  substituted  another  explanation  for  his  silence  and 
departure,  than  his  knowledge,  —  or  half  knowledge,  —  of  Mar 
garet's  previous  obligations.  It  might  not  have  to  do  with  Mar 
garet  at  all ;  it  did  not  point  her  way. 

Did  it  point  toward  Mrs.  Regis  herself? 

Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  add,  right  here,  —  instead 
of  my  own  conjectures  at  the  moment,  —  that  which  did  come 
round  afterward,  and  fit  on. 

A  few  days  later,  Mrs.  Regis  began,  quite  on  the  other  side 
of  the  subject,  to  talk  to  me  one  morning  about  Margaret.  Just 
as  if  no  newer  suggestion  had  arisen  between  us  concerning  her, 
she  returned  of  her  own  accord  to  the  Harry  Mackenzie  affair. 
She  spoke  of  there  having  been  no  letters  recently  received  ;  of 
the  ofF-and-on  character  of  the  intimacy,  held  from  the  beginning 


THE  HEM   OF   A   STORM.  325 

in  a  sort  of  tether  that  might  be  drawn  or  let  slip,  at  conven 
ience. 

"  I  should  think  far  better  of  him  if  he  were  more  self-com 
promising  and  bold.  If  he  insisted  on  a  declared  engagement. 
I  know  it  would  have  been  Margaret's  natural  course,  —  if  it 
had  been  asked  of  her.  But  there  was  too  much  dependent  on 
my  pleasure  —  beyond  the  five  years,  even.  —  Besides,"  —  and 
she  laughed  slightly,  —  "  there  was  another  contingency,  though 
not  precisely  as  I  fancy  they  reckon  it "  — 

"  I  am  sure  Margaret  does  not  reckon !  "     I  broke  in. 

"  I  do  not  mean  Margaret.  I  mean  those  Mackenzies.  There 
was  another  contingency,"  —  she  resumed,  administering  to  me  a 
slight,  courteous  rebuke  for  my  interruption  by  returning  to  the 
precise  phraseology  of  her  sentence  that  had  been  broken  off, 
—  "  which  would  have  made  Margaret  at  once  and  altogether 
independent  of  me.  If  I  had  married." 

I  did  not  interrupt  again,  although  she  stopped.  I  did  not 
even  challenge,  by  word  or  smile,  her  past  tense.  I  went  on 
listening.  When  a  person  to  whom  you  speak  does  that,  you 
can  hardly  escape  awkwardness  but  by  continuing. 

"  Colonel  Regis  was  far  more  generous  than  many  men.  He 
did  not  take  everything  back  from  me  if  I  should  not  remain  a 
widow.  The  life  interest  of  all  continues  to  me,  though  I  should 
marry.  But  it  becomes  only  a  life-interest,  and  it  negatives  my 
control." 

She  had  got  round,  through  her  conditional  phrases,  into  a 
very  indicative  present. 

"  I  know  very  well  what  many  people  have  supposed  and 
said  about  it.  There  were  sure  to  be  plenty  of  versions,  in  New 
York  gossip,  of  a  complicated  will  whose  record  was  in  Kentucky. 
But  I  have  been  very  indifferent  to  their  surmises ;  in  fact,  they 
have  simply  protected  me.  I  had  no  thought  of  marrying 
again." 

She  went  on  with  more  about  the  Mackenzies  watching  for 
this  among  other  contingencies  of  the  suspended  approval ;  of 
their  excessively  civil  and  deferent  way  toward  herself  in  it  all ; 
of  their  tacit  allowance  that  her  judgment  was  right,  —  that  an 
engagement  should  not  be  talked  of  until  Harry  himself  was  in 


326  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

a  position,  —  and  so  forth ;  —  but  I  could  not  help  thinking,  — 
Did  all  this  matter  at  the  present  moment,  or  was  it  mere  cover 
and  introduction  ;  —  a  little  game,  like  "  Burying  Cities  ?  " 
Had  she  just  put  in  now,  some  second  syllable,  of  which  the 
preceding  had  been  hidden  in  that  rather  detached  sentence  the 
other  day  about  General  Rushleigh  ? 

Did  she  give  me  the  two  links,  at  separate  times,  on  purpose  ? 
Did  she  leave  me  to  put  together  what  she  would  not  argue, 
outright,  to  me? 

Was  this  the  mistaken  supposition  under  which  General 
Rushleigh  had  been  acting?  Did  he  believe  that  marrying 
would  make  her  a  poor  woman,  he  being  a  "  not  very  rich 
man  ?  " 

I  did  not  feel  a  particle  of  disdain  or  censure  in  my  weighing 
of  Mrs.  Regis's  words.  I  was  not  lying  in  wait  to  cavil  in 
wardly  at  her.  Because  I  thought  I  could  see  farther  than  to 
do  that.  I  could  see  that  she  had  drawn,  in  good  faith,  however 
anxiously,  this  possible  conclusion.  I  could  see  that  she  gave 
me  her  own  premises  by  which  I  in  turn  might  arrive  at  it,  and 
that  she  trusted  to  my  candor  to  allow  her  title  to  fair  play. 

I  could  not  wonder  that  she  would  fain  prove  this  first.  If  it 
was  in  her  afterward  to  stand  aside,  to  clear  other  mistakes,  to 
give  over  to  Margaret  that  which  indeed  never  was  hers  to  give, 
but  might  be  to  hinder,  —  I  could  hardly  expect  more.  I  could 
hardly  expect  that  for  the  scruple  of  "  robbing  some  other  with 
all  her  years  before  her,"  she  should  refuse  the  springtime  which 
came  blossoming  back  with  a  wonderful  richness  to  her  own 
mid-life.  I  did  not  expect  it  of  her.  Perhaps  I  had  been 
severe  in  what  I  had  said  to  her  about  it.  And  yet,  —  I  think 
it  would  have  been  so  much  higher  and  purer,  —  I  would  have 
struggled  hard  in  her  place  to  expect  it  of  myself. 

I  was  very  far,  too,  from  rigorous  judgment  of  one  who  so 
evidently,  across  all  her  pride  and  my  plain  dealing,  desired  to 
put  herself  in  some  right  light  with  me.  Not  because  of  the 
me  ;  I  did  not  lay  it  to  that  separate  account.  I  laid  it  to  the 
account  of  her  own  higher  apprehension,  to  which  I  had  dared 
to  speak,  and  before  which  she  was  restless  ;  not  before  me,  who 
only  stood  for  it  and  with  it,  making  it  objective  to  her. 


THE   HEM   OF   A   STORM.  327 

That  is  the  secret  of  much  confidence.  We  are  but  laj 
figures,  very  often,  when  we  fancy  we  are  of  high  individual  im 
portance.  What  one  human  being  takes  pains  to  explain,  or 
argue,  or  confess  to  another,  is  often  only  what  he  wants  to  make 
his  own  more  inward  self  discern,  acknowledge,  or  forgive.  That 
is  why  the  dusk,  or  the  darkness,  falling  between  two  faces, 
makes  heart-speech  the  easier. 

And  that  reminds  me  that  I  have  skipped  to  some  days  later. 
It  reminds  me,  also,  that  I  may  have  to  oblige  you  to  skip  some 
things,  Rose,  in  my  story  ;  or,  if  I  send  some  pages  of  it  which 
I  write  out  now,  in  their  due  order,  for  my  own  deep  interest  in 
it  as  it  grows,  I  must  send  them  to  you  with  some  precaution 
against  their  getting  astray  ;  with  certain  blanks  and  changes, — 
and  perhaps  piecemeal,  even  ;  a  leaf  here  and  there,  among 
mere  travel  sketches,  which  will  make  a  pretty  little  puzzle  arid 
excitement  for  you  to  put  together.  For  books  do  get  misbound 
sometimes,  and  there  is  a  certain  pleasure  in  coming  to  a  "  fault," 
when  one  knows  how  to  look  for  the  "  lead  "  again.  After  it  all 
does  get  to  you,  it  is  far  safer  than  between  any  journal  or  port 
folio  covers,  with  any  Bramah  or  combination  lock. 

The  dusk  of  the  shortening  day  and  the  down-rolling  storm 
fell  between  our  faces  that  afternoon  upon  the  mountain  passes. 

We  had  crossed  and  recrossed  the  foaming  Reuss.  We  were 
following  the  great  ravine,  now  on  this  side,  now  on  that,  the 
cliffs  along  whose  fronts  our  roadway  crept  ascending  toward 
the  savage  defiles  of  the  Schollenau,  the  Devil's  Bridge,  and 
the  Oberalp. 

Night  and  fog  came  down  upon  us.  We  had  to  make  up  our 
minds  to  miss  the  wonder  and  the  awe  of  the  imposing  scenery ; 
to  feel  it  only  in  the  blindness  of  tempest  and  the  near  solid 
gloom  of  vast,  uprearing  rocks  ;  in  the  mingled  roar  of  winds 
above  and  waters  plunging  deep  below ;  in  the  imagination 
that  at  any  time,  or  all  the  time,  "  this  might  be  the  Devil's 
Bridge." 

Our  voituriers  closed,  as  well  as  they  could,  the  flapping  can 
vases,  and  the  ill-latching  doors.  I  had  to  put  a  shawl-strap 
through  the  handle  on  my  side,  and  buckling  it  into  a  loop,  sit 
with  my  arm  through  it  for  three  mortal  hours,  to  keep  the  door 


328  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

from  flying  back.  The  lanterns  were  lighted,  and  in  their 
small  radius  of  illumination  we  could  see  the  dripping  faces  of 
the  precipices,  or  trace  the  brinks  that  fell  away,  we  dared  not 
fancy  whither. 

It  was  easy  enough,  in  our  present  practical  interests  and 
anxieties,  to  leave  behind  the  dropped  subject  of  our  difference. 
I  fancy  Mrs.  Regis  never  quarrels ;  and  I  quite  believe,  more 
over,  that  she  does  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  me.  As  the  dusk 
and  the  rain  dropped  around  us,  and  we  were  shut  in  close 
together,  the  silence  that  had  been  between  us  for  a  while  was 
broken,  first  by  fragmentary  remark,  and  afterward  by  con 
nected  talk  again. 

Mrs.  Eegis  herself  led  it  in  a  direction  of  thought  and  feel 
ing  to  which  she  has  not  ordinarily  seemed  given,  and  that  of 
itself  showed  me  very  plainly  how  some  new  awakening  touch 
had  made  her  own  life  newly  living  to  her,  bringing  things  from 
backward  and  forward  to  the  sharp  focus  of  present  revelation. 
We  had  left  personalities  ;  but  our  words  drifted  close  about 
them  in  the  impersonal  and  abstract. 

"  We  are  going  through  all  this,"  she  said,  "  that  we  shall 
never  go  through  but  this  once  ;  and  we  are  not  seeing  it.  It 
is  a  blank  in  our  journey,  that  we  can  ill  afford  any  blank  in. 
It  is  like  those  years,  Miss  Patience,  that  you  are  so  stern  about 
people  never  living  again." 

Her  calling  me  "  Miss  Patience  "  was  a  marked  relenting  from 
the  stiff  "  Miss  Strong."  It  was  always  her  friendliest  little 
way  with  me,  when  her  mood  was  intimate.  Before  I  answered 
the  rest  of  what  she  said,  I  answered  that,  with  the  real,  cordial 
responsiveness  that  I  felt. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  Christian  name  of  me,"  I  said,  laugh 
ing.  "  It  makes  me  feel  in  a  more  Christian  light  with  you.  I 
am  afraid  you  find  me  a  fierce  old  thing,  sometimes." 

"  You  are  both  ends  of  your  name,"  she  said.  "  I  find  you 
'  Patience,'  and  I  find  you  '  Strong.'  That  is  why  I  cannot  help 
liking  you,  and  also  being  half  afraid  of  you.  You  are  awfully 
uncompromising." 

"  About  the  years  ?  I  don't  say  we  should  never  live  them 
again.  I  only  say  that  the  things  which  are  dead,  are  dead  to 


THE   HEM    OF   A   STORM.  329 

ourselves.  But  in  everything,  as  in  finally  laying  off  the  body,  I 
believe  we  only  die  that  we  may  live  again.  In  other  lives  ; 
and  in  our  own  lives  —  farther  on." 

"  Why  should  we  not  wish  to,  —  why  should  we  not  do  it  if 
we  could,  —  come  back  and  go  this  way  again,  that  we  are  miss 
ing  now  ?  Farther  on,  —  if  it  means  quite  other  things,  that 
we  might  have  had  also,  —  is  a  hard  promise." 

"  '  A  thousand  years  shall  pass,  and  then 
I  mean  to  go  that  way  again.'  " 

1  quoted  it  to  myself  rather  than  to  her.  I  do  not  think  she 
knew  what  I  quoted  from. 

"  Farther  on  grows  out  of  now  ;  even  out  of  the  missing.  If 
we  miss  that,  I  think  we  shall  be  sorrier,"  I  said  to  her.  "  The 
foolish  virgins  went  back  after  their  oil.  There  is  something  in 
that  part  of  the  parable  that  gets  overlooked.  Maybe  if  they 
had  gone  straight  to  the  Bridegroom,  with  their  empty  vessels, 
he  would  have  had  pity  on  them.  Maybe  He  Himself  would 
have  found  them  oil." 

"  There  is  something  else  in  that  parable,  if  you  are  going  to 
look  at  it  freely.  The  Bridegroom  himself  tarried.  And  the 
women  slept,  and  the  lamps  went  out.  Life  is  only  just  so  long ; 
you  forget  you  are  waiting  it  out  sometimes. 

"  I  don't  think  He  forgets,"  I  said,  gently.  "  He  only  tarries 
when  we  need  the  time." 

"  Yet  you  think  He  may  hold  out  something  you  are  not  to 
take,  —  for  your  real  own.  /  never  gave  keep-money  to  chil 
dren  !  " 

"  Give-money  is  better,"  I  answered  ;  hardly  sure  that  she 
would  apply  the  word  as  I  could  not  help  applying  it.  "  Or  He 
may  show  us  something  that  He  is  keeping  for  us  ;  something 
He  is  going  to  turn  into  what  we  could  never  turn  it  to  our 
selves." 

"  We  are  getting  very  deep  into  metaphor,"  said  Mrs.  Regis. 
"  I  am  not  sure  I  don't  like  plain  speaking  quite  as  well  in  its 
season." 

And  there  we  dropped  the  talk  again.  I  have  not  told  you 
all  of  it ;  only  the  points  that  held.  I  am  not  one  of  those  won 
derful  scribes  who  can  reproduce  yards  of  colloquy,  with  all  the 
tones  and  gestures,  stops  and  quotation-marks. 


330  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

We  had  not  only  not  quarreled ;  we  had  come  nearer  to  each 
other  than  we  ever  did  before.  But  for  that,  I  suppose  she 
would  scarcely  have  given  me  the  other  syllable  I  told  you  of. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  we  saw  the  lights  of  Andermatt 
twinkling,  close-clustered  below  us. 

We  came  rattling  down  into  the  village  streets,  and  rattled 
through.  We  plunged  again  into  the  gloom  and  storm  beyond, 
leaving  its  pleasant  glimmer  dropping  out  in  distance  and 
shadow,  —  for  our  rest  was  farther  on. 

Nearly  two  miles  more,  —  a  weary  lengthening,  —  and  we 
came  to  Hospenthal,  at  the  foot  of  the  St.  Gotthard. 

We  slept  there,  in  a  string  of  rooms  that  opened  to  each 
other  from  end  to  end.  Around  the  walls  of  mine  were  all 
Napoleon's  battles,  in  cheap  pictures. 

The  next  morning  flashed  gloriously  upon  the  world ;  at 
least,  our  piece  of  it. 

We  looked  in  our  maps  and  guide-books,  and  made  out  just 
where  and  when  we  had  passed  the  Devil's  Bridge. 

It  would  have  been  a  great  thing  to  have  seen  it.  But,  as 
Emery  Ann  said,  —  "  There  's  no  knowing  how  many  devil's 
bridges  you  get  over  in  the  dark.  And  not  a  bad  way  either, 
when  you  come  to  think  of  it." 


DOWN  INTO   THE   SUMMER.  331 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
DOWN  INTO  THE  SUMMER. 


....  THE  zigzag  carriage  road  doubles  up  the  northern  side 
of  the  mountain,  gradually  leaving  the  village  below,  and  giving 
pretty,  shifting,  receding  views  of  it  and  its  valley,  and  of  the 
picturesque  old  castle-ruin  on  its  separate  height  which  the  Lom 
bards  built  to  overlook  the  pass. 

Around  the  end  of  the  long-lying  ridge,  the  way  takes  a  last 
turn  that  puts  the  whole  body  of  the  range  between  us  and  the 
Urserenthal,  or  valley  of  the  Uri  and  Andermatt,  that  we  and 
the  tempest  were  driving  blindly  through  last  night ;  and  out 
on  the  southeastern  slope  we  begin  to  follow  a  longitudinal 
stretch  which  lifts  us  continually  higher  and  higher  toward  the 
central  culmination  of  the  extended  chain  of  the  St.  Gotthard, 
and  above  the  lonely,  lovely  valley  of  the  upper  Reuss. 

Down  at  our  left,  —  a  desolate  basin,  yet  green  with  soft 
pasture  and  shut  warmly  in  by  its  great  defenses  of  bleak,  bare 
rock,  —  it  spreads  its  breadth  beneath  us,  and  in  its  midst  the 
slender  river  runs  to  meet  its  mate.  At  our  right  is  the  im 
penetrable  mass  along  whose  shelvy  side  we  creep.  Forward, 
above  the  rocky  heaps,  a  southward  sky  glows  cloudlessly;  a 
bare,  bright  heaven  above  a  bare  and  solitary  earth. 

"  It  will  make  beautiful  weather  now,"  said  Margaret  to  the 
"  cocher,"  as  he  walked  with  his  long  whip  and  reins  in  hand  by 
the  side  of  the  carriage. 

"It  makes  always  beautiful  weather  in  Italy,"  replied  the 
man. 

Yes  ;  over  there  was  Italy  ! 

Behind,  the  uncertain  days  and  the  breaking  weather  in 
storm-breeding  Switzerland ;  before,  weeks  of  summer  splendor 


332  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

yet,  in  the  delicious  Ticino.  Between  the  two,  the  unmelted 
snows  around  the  level  little  lakes  on  the  topmost  table  of  the 
mountain.  In  a  few  hours,  we  should  have  passed  over  ;  a  day's 
drive  only  between  two  zones,  across  an  arctic  culm. 

So  far  below  us  was  the  river-valley,  that  we  did  not  even 
notice  for  a  long  while,  that  any  living  creature  moved  in  it. 

The  still,  feeding  sheep  might  have  been  small  gray-white 
stones  lying  scattered  about  in  it. 

But  we  were  suddenly  aware  of  a  tiny  scud  and  hurry  among 
the  little  gray-white  things. 

They  were  turned,  by  some  magic,  into  a  moving  multitude 
that  ran  like  mice  or  insects,  gathering  in  converging  lines  to 
ward  a  thickening  centre  swarm ;  those  in  the  far  outskirts 
catching  the  impulse  gradually,  and  raying  in. 

It  was  an  immense  flock  in  an  immense  pasture  ;  it  took  a 
long  time  for  the  last  ones  to  find  out  that  there  was  anything 
going  on.  It  took  us  a  good  while  to  detect  where  were  the 
last,  and  what  was  drawing  them  all.  . 

It  was  the  shepherd,  standing  on  a  rock,  calling  them  to  be 
fed  with  salt. 

We  could  not  hear  him  call.  "We  could  just  see  him  there, 
and  the  eager  huddling  round  him  ;  and  we  could  see  how  not 
his  voice  or  presence  was  made  to  be  directly  perceived  by  all, 
but  one  caught  from  another  the  sign  and  knowledge,  and  so  at 
last  all  were  gathered. 

All  but  a  very  distant,  stolid  few. 

And  then  we  discerned  another  thing.  A  little  black  speck 
flew  wildly  about  the  far  places,  the  distant  margins.  Hither 
and  thither,  round  and  about,  scaring  the  stragglers ;  driving 
them  up  till  they  got  where  they  could  be  drawn  ;  hunting  them 
out,  and  bringing  them  in.  We  supposed  it  barked  fiercely  ;  we 
could  see  when  it  must  be  barking ;  but  we  could  not  hear  it. 

There  were  to  be  none  left  out,  away  off,  without  their  share, 
deaf,  witless,  or  obstinate.  The  fullness  of  the  little  gentiles 
was  to  be  gathered  in. 

"  Behold  My  Parable  !  "  A  voice  and  a  beckoning  were  in 
all  the  grand,  wide  scene,  and  said  it  to  me. 

And  in  the  parable  I  saw  two  things,  newly. 


DOWN  INTO   THE   SUMMER.  333 

That  the  sheep-nature  is  a  part  of  the  shepherding.  That 
they  are  made  like  that,  one  to  follow  another,  so  that  the  near 
est,  hearing  and  seeing  —  and  following,  bring  also  those  who 
cannot  yet  hear  and  see. 

And  that  for  the  scattered  in  the  wilderness,  the  dog  shall  be 
sent  out. 

Now  the  dog  of  the  shepherd  never  harms  the  sheep ;  bu4 
only  compels  them  to  the  fold  or  to  the  feeding. 

"We  came  up  under  the  full  noon  sunshine,  to  the  high  soli 
tude  of  the  uppermost  crowns ;  to  the  little  lakes  that  lay  close 
under  the  sky  ;  to  the  snowheaps  beneath  the  northerly  ridges. 

We  got  out  and  walked,  and  took  snow  in  our  hands,  and 
made  snowballs ;  and  said,  —  "  To-morrow,  down  there,  we 
shall  eat  fresh  figs,  and  find  the  flowers  in  bloom."  And  then, 
as  the  road  trended  to  its  first  decline  over  the  mighty  brow,  we 
got  into  the  carriages  again,  to  be  driven  down  into  the  sum 
mer. 

Be  patient  with  my  last  grand  zigzag !  For  I  wish  you 
could  see,  or  imagine  by  means  of  me,  this  wonderful  road ! 

Other  mountain  ways  climb  sharply,  with  quick  angles  ;  this 
lies  in  grand  sweeps,  looping  and  curving  like  a  ribbon  unrolled 
and  cast  with  great  flings,  this  way  and  that,  down  the  vast  de 
scent.  You  come  upon  skein  after  skein  of  it.  You  thread  the 
beautiful  ins  and  outs  that  lie  beneath  you  for  one  little  way  ; 
and  then,  below  some  precipice-front  that  hid  it  and  which  now 
you  pass,  you  see  new  coils  of  it  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  almost 
interlacing.  Everywhere  it  is  broad  and  smooth  like  the  finest 
city  avenue.  Not  a  rolling  stone,  not  a  roughened  rut,  through 
out. 

The  horses,  —  we  had  three  to  each  carriage,  —  took  a  regu 
lar,  steady  trot,  and  kept  it  without  break  or  acceleration.  Just 
the  same  rounding  sweep  at  every  turn  the  leader  made,  —  his 
hoofs  striking  a  sure  rhythm,  the  loosened  traces  swaying  at  his 
sides,  as  we  measured  down  the  many  thousand  feet  of  distance. 
Almost  seven  thousand  it  is  in  actual  fall  to  the  sea-level ;  and 
who  knows  how  it  doubles  or  quadruples  in  the  reflex  wind 
ings? 


334  SIGHTS   AND  INSIGHTS. 

« 

Past  old  snow  masses,  —  in  deep  clefts  where  the  warm  sun 
never  reaches ;  beside  streams  tumbling  through  ice-arches ; 
through  a  profound  ravine, —  the  dark  Val  Tremola,  —  down 
whose  awful  sides,  they  say,  fall  frequent  avalanches,  —  you 
keep  on,  and  come  out  again  upon  the  broad,  sunny  mountain- 
bosom,  to  more  dropped  skeins  of  white,  smooth  roadway  ;  more 
delicious  swings  as  in  mid-air,  to  and  fro,  down  the  declivity, 
with  sweet  fields  of  Swiss-Italy  sending  up  summer  breaths  to 
meet  you;  you  swoop,  as  the  bird  swoops,  with  a  last,  glad 
slant  and  rush  to  the  valley ;  and  then  —  you  drive  sud 
denly,  as  into  a  close  house-passage,  where  you  could  touch  the 
walls  on  either  side,  through  the  narrow,  little  chief-and-only 
street  of  Airolo,  and  find  yourself  before  a  funny  Italian  posta, 
where  you  climb  with  cramped  limbs  the  outside  stairway  that 
completes  the  confusion  of  indoors  and  open  air,  make  your 
way  into  a  crowded  little  travelers' -room,  and,  with  such  faith  as 
you  may,  order  dinner. 

"We  were  on  the  south  side  of  the  Alps. 

The  great  north  wall  of  Italy,  under  which  she  lies  most 
lovely,  was  behind  our  backs  and  above  our  heads,  with  its  mas 
sive  shelter. 

Ticino,  full  of  sunshine,  fragrant  with  vintage,  —  the  quiet 
lakes,  —  the  lesser  hills  swelling  in  soft  beauty,  —  long,  linger 
ing  bloom  and  warmth,  —  rest,  —  were  around  us  and  close  by. 
Down  on  the  Lombardy  plains,  —  through  the  valley  of  the 
Arno,  —  the  mountain  winds  might  sweep,  and  make  a  winter 
chill  in  every  shadow ;  from  the  crests  of  these  huge  ramparts, 
they  rush  at  a  larger  angle,  to  smite  below ;  but  they  would 
leave  us  in  the  garnered  warmth  from  noon  to  noon,  with  the 
tender  little  southerly  breezes  stealing  back  in  a  sweet  under 
current  upon  us. 

We  threw  off  cloaks  and  shawls.  We  sat  already  in  our 
open  carriages  in  summer  dress.  We  left  Airolo,  and  followed 
the  river  down,  by  the  beautiful  cliff-road ;  now  skirting  it  for  a 
long  way  on  one  side,  then  crossing  by  some  bridge,  from 
which  we  could  see  up  and  down  the  wild,  rocky  path  of  it  into 
still  turns  and  shadows  where  the  crags  projected  and  forced  it 


DOWN   INTO   THE   SUMMER.  335 

into  bays,  —  or  where  it  made  white  leaps  and  plunges  over  its 
descending  bed ;  we  passed  through  tunneled  galleries  cut 
through  straight  profiles  of  rock,  whose  entrances  were  hung 
with  swinging  vines,  and  whose  exits  were  blue  beyond  with  a 
clear  arch  of  sky ;  we  were  among  innumerable  little  waterfalls 
again  ;  they  shone  out  with  tiny  gleams,  or  made  here  and  there 
a  far,  foaming  spring  from  their  green  hiding  places,  hurrying 
down  to  find  the  river. 

We  came  in  a  little  while,  unexpectedly,  —  for  we  had 
begun  to  feel  as  if  we  must  have  left  all  such  grand  surprise 
behind  us, —  into  a  gorge  of  magnificent  gloom.  The  road 
descended  into  a  low  ravine,  and  ran  off  upon  bare,  shelving 
rock  at  the  base  of  a  black,  beetling  wall  on  one  hand,  and  on 
the  other  along  the  very  water-margin  that  washed  the  naked 
slope  with  its  thin,  swift  edge. 

Close  beyond  the  brown  transparency  was  the  deep  central 
chasm,  river-filled ;  and  above  came  down  the  plunging  cata 
racts,  where  the  flood  was  hemmed  and  tossed  among  the  ribs 
and  gullies.  It  was  a  steep,  sudden,  cliff-locked  incline  that  the 
water  followed ;  and  we  —  for  there  was  no  other  pathway  — 
must  come  close  and  follow  with  it.  It  was  as  if  the  river  took 
us  by  the  hand  and  led  us  through  by  its  own  secret  passage. 
We  did  not  see  how  it  was  till  we  had  descended  the  sharp 
pitch  beneath  the  overhanging  brows,  and  our  wheels  had  left 
the  gravel  for  the  smooth-worn  bed  of  stone,  and  we  found  our 
selves  in  the  cool  and  the  dimness  beside  the  black-deep,  roar 
ing-white,  tumultuous  water. 

We  counted  seven  —  or  nine  —  separate  cataracts,  flood  above 
flood,  in  the  upper  throat  of  the  gap,  when  we  looked  back  from 
the  first  little  bridge,  flung  across  the  stream  where  it  begins  to 
twist  itself  through  the  crooked  breaks  and  crannies  of  the  long 
mountain  fissure.  We  crossed  three  times,  and  at  last  rounded 
away  into  the  more  open  valley  under  an  impending  mass  of 
rock  which  reaches  its  threat  out  over  the  road  for  a  distance  of 
some  fifty  yards. 

Before  we  got  to  Faido,  —  where  we  passed  the  night  at  the 
Prince  of  Wales  Hotel,  in  which  the  British  heir-apparent  and 
his  party  stopped  when  he  was  traveling  here,  and  where  Edith 


336  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

and  I  slept  in  a  room  resplendent  with  yellow  cushions  and 
hangings,  which  was  a  part,  maybe,  of  the  royal  suite,  —  we  saw 
the  fall  of  the  Piumegna,  where  the  little  tributary  flings  itself 
in  one  shining  leap  into  the  Ticino ;  and  when  we  threw  open 
a  back  window  of  our  room  to  look  out  into  the  woody  pleasant 
ness  behind  the  inn,  which  has  the  whole  village  huddled  around 
the  little  square  at  its  front,  we  saw  the  soft  radiance  of  the  sun 
set  falling  upon  its  forest  background  and  upon  its  shimmering 
waters. 

Next  day  we  dined  at  Bellinzona. 

Our  morning  ride  was  still  along  the  lovely  glens,  between 
mountain  slopes  that  were  bright  with  waterfalls,  —  over  valley- 
spaces  rich  and  sweet  with  vines  and  chestnut-trees,  and  where 
the  figs  were  ripening :  through  tiny  villages,  which  we  entered 
and  left  as  by  a  back  door  and  a  front  at  either  end  of  the 
funny  little  corridor-streets  that  begin  all  of  a  sudden  with  their 
close-packed  lines  of  houses,  and  end  just  as  suddenly  without 
the  least  gradual  straggle  ;  and  we  entered  with  great  delight 
the  first  real  Italian  court-yard,  around  which  Hotel  Angelo  is 
built,  with  galleried  stories,  labyrinthine  passages,  out-of-door 
crossings,  ups  and  downs  from  room  to  room ;  dined  in  a  cool, 
shady  saloon,  and  set  off,  refreshed,  for  our  last  half  day's  travel 
for  many  weeks. 

From  the  town  we  went  up  a  mountain  again.  A  beautiful 
height,  groved  with  chestnut,  from  whose  ascending  bends  we 
caught  the  first  charming  vision  of  the  lake  country. 

Maggiore  glittered  in  the  distance,  —  the  pretty  Ticino  ended 
its  long  run  in  its  bosom, —  Bellinzona  itself,  with  its  fortifica 
tions,  its  three  castles,  its  picturesque  roofing  and  coloring,  lay 
at  our  feet ;  and  oh,  how  delicious  was  the  summer  air  over  the 
wood-herbage  and  among  the  nut-trees  ! 

We  got  away  among  billowy,  foresty  hills,  and  wound  among 
them  all  the  afternoon.  The  country  reminds  me  strongly  of 
the  woods  and  heights  of  Hilslowe,  when  we  drive  around  Blue 
Peak  in  the  twilight. 

We  stopped  at  a  secluded  Osteria,  to  give  the  horses  water, 
and  we  saw  there  the  first  "  sandal-shoon  "  on  the  bare  feet  of 


DOWN   INTO   THE   SUMMER.  337 

peasant  girls.  Stiff,  wooden  soles,  high-heeled,  with  only  a 
strap  across  the  toe  to  hold  them  on ;  and  they  go  clip,  clip,  in 
a  most  uncomfortable  manner,  as  the  foot  bends  the  little  it  can 
upon  them,  its  only  chance  for  play  being  the  slip&hod  let-go 
behind. 

And  at  last  we  descended  the  long  gradual  height  we  had 
gained,  to  the  dear  little  middle  lake  of  Italy's  border  three,  — 
Lugano. 

We  came  down  under  a  miracle  of  soft  splendor,  —  a  sunset 
that  was  all  over  the  sky,  in  this  fashion  ;  —  deep  saffron  and 
blazing  crimson,  in  the  west ;  eastward,  over  the  tops  of  the  dark 
hills,  pure  rose,  through  which  the  blue  showed ;  above,  curling 
clouds  that  shaped  themselves  into  a  marvelous  shell,  inverted 
over  the  whole  landscape  ;  its  edges  richly  brown  with  shadow  as 
they  curved  away  from  the  horizon  light,  —  its  inward  coloring 
melting  through  all  delicious  shades  of  citron  and  amber  and 
buff  to  a  pale,  clear  gold  in  the  mid-heaven.  It  held  itself  above 
us,  and  made  the  foliage  about  us  tender  in  its  own  mellow  light. 
It  hung,  and  hung,  and  glowed  intenser,  and  behind  its  border 
the  flame-tint  and  red  burned  on,  ever  more  fervently.  It  broke, 
at  last,  and  wandered  and  dropped  away  toward  the  hills  on 
every  side,  in  flecks  of  gold  and  tawny  upon  the  rose  and  blue. 

Was  this  the  way  the  suns  of  common  days  went  down  in 
Italy  ? 

But  we  have  been  in  Italy  many  weeks  ;  and  we  have  seen 
many  sunsets  ;  yet  never  again  have  we  been  beneath  a  twi 
light  sky  like  that. 

22 


338  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

SANTA  MARIA  DEGLI  ANGIOLI. 


....  THE  road  ran  in  between  high  villa  walls  as  we  drove 
rapidly  down  into  Lugano. 

Gardens  and  frescoed  houses  gave  a  quaintly  pleasant  aspect 
to  the  lofty  outskirts  of  the  town,  overlooking  the  smooth  lake. 

This  fresco  painting  of  outer  walls  seems  odd  enough  at  first ; 
but  after  a  while,  like  other  human  fancies  and  inventions,  it 
turns  its  thought-side  toward  you,  and  you  come  to  it,  in  a  way, 
and  partly. 

Balconies,  verandas,  porches,  pillars,  are  represented  on  the 
flat  surfaces  in  which  the  real  buildings  end.  You  say,  "  What 
a  senseless  sham  !  "  And  then  you  turn  it  over  in  your  mind, 
and  you  see  that  it  is  like  ever  so  many  things  that  can't  be 
quite  all  they  would,  in  this  world,  and  so  have  to  make  it  up 
with  imagination.  And  imagination,  presented  to  other  people 
so  as  to  solicit  theirs,  is  —  effect,  make-believe,  sham,  or  what 
you  please.  Perhaps  there  may  be  a  kind  of  honest  sham  that 
is  n't  a  very  bad  thing. 

For  instance  ;  a  man  builds  a  house,  not  only  to  live  in,  but 
to  express  himself.  And  not  that  altogether  to  other  people,  for 
what  they  may  think  of  it,  but  to  realize  it  to  himself.  To  put 
into  positive  form  his  notion  of  pleasantness,  beauty,  use,  —  in 
living  and  surrounding.  To  behold  it  with  his  eyes,  and  see  the 
good  of  it.  Now  he  can  get  just  so  much  stone  and  timber  to  do 
it  with,  and  just  so  many  days'  work  from  other  men  to  put  them 
together ;  and  there  his  house  must  end.  His  idea  does  n't. 
He  can  think  ever  so  much  more.  If  he  were  in  heaven, 
perhaps  he  could  just  think  it  all  out  into  form.  In  the  mean 
time  —  herein  Italy,  —  he  puts  it  on  in  color;  which  says, — 


SANTA   MARIA   DEGLI   ANGIOLI.  339 

"  This  is  the  rest  of  it.     This  is  what  I  would  have  made  it  if  I 
could." 

I  wonder  if  the  inward  building  that  we  are  each  at  work  on, 
and  that  we  never  in  this  beginning  of  things  do  finish  to  our 
minds,  could  be  shown  out  as  it  stands  in  us,  there  would  not  be 
seen  to  be  a  great  deal  of  beautiful  fresco  about  it,  upon  very 
blunt  endings  ?  And  if  the  manners,  and  the  decencies,  and  the 
lovely  courtesies  of  life  do  not  outstrip  with  their  graciousness 
the  heavenly  charities  that  are  actually  edified  into  permanent 
spiritual  substance  in  our  natures  ?  And  yet,  if  these  color- 
touches  may  not  stand  for  honest,  beautiful  desire,  that  would  be 
all  that,  and  that  will  be  as  fast  as  it  can  ?  Won't  it  do  to  look 
pleasauter  than  we  feel,  —  to  welcome  a  bit  more  cordially,  — 
when  the  inmost  feeling  of  all  is  something  so  much  pleasanter 
and  more  cordial  than  we  can  make  the  minute's  mood  ?  Won't 
it  do  to  wear  such  refinement  and  culture  as  we  can,  until  we 
have  got  more  ?  To  put  it  on  the  top,  while  we  are  studying 
and  practicing  as  we  can,  to  deepen  it  all  the  way  down?  I 
don't  know  but  I  could  have  a  certain  patience  with  shoddy, 
even,  if  I  thought  it  was  shoddy  that  really  wanted  and  meant 
to  be. 

Shakespeare  says,  —  "  Assume  a  virtue  if  you  have  it  not ;  "  you 
may  be  more  likely  to  get  it  than  if  you  altogether  gave  it  up 
and  let  it  go.  And  I  have  read  a  sermon  upon  "  putting  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  The  putting  on  is  from  something  certainly 
that  must  have  been  put  in,  and  that  lies  there  truer  than  all 
hindrance,  though  it  may  not  yet  have  got  put  through.  And 
the  sweet  dream-frescoes,  that  finish  out  our  short-stopped,  disap 
pointed  living  ?  Don't  they  shine  upon  the  blank  with  bright, 
clear  color  to  the  angels  who  go  by  ?  So  that  they  say,  as  I  said 
when  I  passed  a  flat-walled  cottage  with  a  little  painted  porch,  — 
"  It  is  a  sign  ;  some  time  it  should  be  builded  ?  " 

Still,  I  felt  a  kind  of  hitch,  or  slip,  somewhere,  in  the  practi 
cal  part,  as  if  the  theory  would  n't  quite  do  to  hang  life  on  to. 
I  put  it  to  Emery  Ann. 

"  Forzino,*'  she  said  at  first,  slowly.  "  But  then  again,  I  don't 
know.  Appears  to  me  as  if  that  was  the  wind-up.-  I  don't  be 
lieve  they  '11  ever  put  the  real  thing  on,  top  of  all  that  paint 


340  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

I  'd  as  lief  see  a  timber  left  somewhere,  with  a  mortice  or 
something.  '  T  ain't  the  way  we  do  down  East." 

"  Down  where,  Emery  Ann  ?  " 

"  Well  —  where  are  we  ?  Out  West,  then.  In  Poggawan- 
timoc.  We  get  up  a  frame,  and  board  in ;  then  we  finish  off  as 
fast  as  we  can,  specially  inside.  And  if  a  man  has  a  notion  of 
a  new  part  added  on  any  time,  he  '11  leave  a  rough  end,  or  a 
chimney  built  out,  or  put  up  a  lean-to,  and  it'll  look  like  it,  and 
be  real  as  far  as  it  goes.  No ;  I  don't  like  too  much  polishiu' 
off  till  you  're  pretty  near  through." 

And  I  guess  the  truth  about  it  is  partly  with  me,  but  a  good 
deal  with  Emery  Ann. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,"  she  said  again  in  a  minute  or  two.  "  It 's 
the  difference  between  a  paper  pattern  and  a  paper  trirnmin'. 
It 's  a  good  thing  to  have  your  idea  laid  out,  complete,  to  go  by, 
in  your  own  measurin'  and  makin' ;  but  you  've  got  to  have  it 
in  the  stuff,  before  it  '11  do  to  put  it  right  on  an'  wear  it.  And 
another  thing,  Patience  ;  we  may  as  well  thank  the  goodness  and 
the  grace  that  that  dodge  has  n't  got  to  our  folks  yet.  They  'd 
run  all  to  fresker.  They  alwers  do.  Folks  would  be  settin'  up 
housekeepin'  on  nothin'  but  fresker.  Fact,  they  do  now, 
finally." 

We  clattered  into  the  town,  that  looked  so  pretty,  so  warm- 
colored  and  picturesque,  from  above ;  its  roofs  fretted  to  richness 
with  old,  dark-red,  roughened  tiles ;  its  steep  streets  running  up 
to  the  Cathedral  height  behind ;  its  curious  quays  and  water- 
stairs,  and  little  boats,  and  slopes  of  stone  terrace  for  the  wash 
erwomen,  marking  the  Lake-edge. 

We  crossed  the  public  square,  and  plunged  through  the  dim 
ness  and  unsavoriness  of  a  narrow,  arcaded  street  where  the 
people  sat,  and  stood,  and  chatted,  and  bargained,  in  the  very 
drive-way  ;  —  paved  with  two  stripes  of  flag  it  was  for  wheels 
to  run  on  ;  —  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  driving  right  through 
a  long  bazaar,  between  its  counters,  and  scattering  all  its  trade. 
I  felt  a  good  deal  like  a  "  bull  in  a  chiua-shop." 

We  turned  in  at  a  dark  archway,  to  a  solemn,  cloistered  court 
yard,  under  the  shadow  of  an  old  church  tower.  It  was  the  an- 


SANTA   MARIA   DEGLI  ANGIOLI.  341 

cient  monastery  of  Santa  Maria  degli  Angioli ;  disestablished, 
and  become  the  modern  Hotel  du  Pare. 

The  first  thing  Edith  did  was  to  get  lost. 

They  had  carried  her  traveling  bag  off  with  Margaret's,  and 
she  left  me  at  our  room  door  to  follow  hastily.  The  Regis's 
rooms  were  up  another  flight. 

I  waited  two  or  three  minutes,  and  then  went  in  and  partly 
closed  my  door.  I  thought  she  had  got  talking  with  Margaret, 
and  would  come  back  presently. 

But  presently,  —  she  did  not  come.  And  Margaret  herself 
came  down,  —  she  has  a  wonderful  organ  of  locality,  and  places 
herself  at  once  in  whatever  rambling  complication  of  interior, 
which  is  a  fine  thing  in  European  traveling  ;  and  also,  which  is 
another  fine  thing,  she  also  notes  the  numbers,  and  so  checks 
herself  and  the  whole  party  at  the  very  outset ;  —  and  then  we 
both  got  uneasy ;  for  Edith  had  left  her,  she  said,  as  soon  as  she 
had  found  her  satchel. 

"  If  she  has  taken  a  wrong  turn  !  —  There  are  no  end  of  pas 
sages  and  staircases,"  said  Margaret.  "  She  might  walk  about 
an  hour.  It  is  a  bewitchingly  mysterious  old  place." 

"  But  this  is  n't  bewitching,"  I  said,  uncomfortably ;  peering 
up  and  down  from  our  corner  door  along  the  immense  corridor 
in  one  direction,  and  a  perfect  labyrinth  of  narrow,  odd-shaped 
galleries  in  the  other,  where  iron  railings  ran  round  a  sort  of 
sarcophagus-shaped  opening  in  floor  above  floor,  and  door-ways 
beyond  revealed  fresh  intricacies,  and  a  farther  sarcophagus  in 
the  dimness.  "  It  is  among  some  of  these  doubles  that  she  has 
got  puzzled.  We  came  up  along  there ;  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell 
how." 

"  We  must  go  and  look  for  her,"  said  Margaret. 

"  And  get  lost  ourselves  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shall  remember,  and  any  servant  could  tell  us  the 
way  to  our  number.  But  we  must  call  Emery  Ann.  Edith 
might  come  back  herself  and  get  frightened  for  you.  We  can't 
spare  time  for  very  much  hide  and  seek.  I  was  to  go  down  with 
you  and  send  up  tea  to  mamma." 

So,  leaving  Emery  Ann  watching  in  the  door-way,  we  set  off 
upon  our  voyage  of  discovery. 


342  SIGHTS  AND   INSIGHTS. 

If  she  had  not  stood  there,  —  as  Emery  Ann  always  does 
stand  at  her  post,  whatever  it  is,  —  I  doubt,  with  all  Margaret's 
topographical  instinct,  if  we  should  have  got  back  without  a 
servant.  Whatever  the  old  monks  did  with  this  end  of  their 
great  convent,  and  whatever  these  sarcophagus-shaped  galleries 
were  built  so  for,  with  all  the  little  by-ways  and  corner-ways 
leading  off  from  them,  —  they  make,  with  their  solid  stone  floors 
and  gloomy  iron  railings,  that  fend  them  from  a  sepulchral  abyss 
between  foundation  and  skylight,  the  very  queerest  kind  of  trap 
for  newly-lodged  travelers. 

We  traversed  at  least  three  different  stories,  blundering  upon 
the  staircases,  and  blundering  back  into  the  mazes  —  as  they 
seemed  to  us,  — in  which  no  staircases  appeared,  and  from  which 
we  wondered  how  we  had  happened  upon  any  before.  Each 
story  was  like  every  other,  and  the  numbers,  —  connected  with 
the  rest  of  the  large  building  in  a  way  we  could  not  "  articulate," 

—  did  not  give  us  much  certainty.     We  saw  no  servant,  even ; 
for  it  was  the  hour  of  table  d'hote,  and  they  were  all  off  at  the 
other  side  of  the  quadrangle,  in  the  big  dining-room,  or  in  their 
little  pantries,  which  we  discovered  afterward,  from  which   they 
served  the  diners  in  their  own  rooms.     I  think  the  service  was 
just  about  over  and  we  were  in  the  long  lull  of  the  dessert. 

But  at  the  third  time  of  our  coming  upon  the  beacon  vision 
of  Emery  Ann  at  the  far  end  under  the  lamp,  she  beckoned  to 
us  furiously,  and  we  hastened  back. 

She  said  she  had  beckoned  before  and  we  had  not  minded. 
Edith  had  been  back  some  minutes. 

As  we  found  our  way,  —  by  her  help,  now,  severely  experi 
enced  as  she  was,  poor  child,  —  to  the  salle  a  manger,  she  told 
us  about  it. 

"  I  got  upon  the  wrong  floor,  somehow,"  she  said.  "  I  believe 
I  went  up  instead  of  down  ;  and  then  I  went  down  and  up,  and 
then  I  got  among  those  dreadful  little  passages  and  could  n't 
find  the  staircase  at  all.  I  believe  I  wandered  off  into  some  un 
heard  of  quarter ;  and  once  I  opened  a  door  that  I  thought  I  had 
just  come  through,  and  went  straight  into  somebody's  bedroom, 

—  only   somebody  was  n't  there,  for  all   the  world  is  gone  to 
dinner.     Once  or  twice  I  saw  a  servant,  and  he  would  look  at 


SANTA   MARIA   DEGLI  ANGIOLI.  343 

me  curiously,  and  I  felt  so  ashamed  of  belonging  nowhere,  that 
I  walked  as  fast  as  possible  to  make  believe  I  did.  After  that, 
nobody  seemed  stirring.  So  I  got  desperate,  and  stood  by  the 
railing,  —  for  I  remembered  that  one  of  them  was  in  sight  from 
our  door,  though  which,  or  which  way,  I  had  lost  all  idea,  — 
and  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  the  first  person  who  did  come 
along  the  way  to  the  bureau." 

"  That  was  bright,"  said  Margaret. 

"  You  see,  I  got  really  frightened  enough  to  stand  still  and 
collect  myself.  Well,  there  I  waited  ;  till  by  and  by  —  I  dare 
say  it  was  n't  many  minutes,  but  they  seemed  half  hours,  — 
somebody  came  in  from  a  turn  —  the  inside  corridor,  you  see, 
where  the  staircases  run,  —  and  walked  my  way.  I  looked 
round,  and  spoke  all  in  an  instant,  for  fear  he  should  be  gone. 
'  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  direct  me  to  the  bureau  ? '  I 
said ;  and  then  —  I  saw  that  it  was  n't  a  servant.  He  was  very 
polite,  and  he  answered  me  in  English  ;  and  he  went  back  with 
me  to  show  me." 

"  Edie  !     A  strange  gentleman  !  " 

"  Oh,  he  was  n't  exactly  a  gentleman.  I  mean  —  he  was  n't 
old,  you  know.  I  mean,"  —  and  she  laughed,  and  set  us  all 
laughing,  — "  he  was  what  Norah  would  call  '  jist  afther  bein' 
a  boy.'  And  he  was  American  too.  He  said  so." 

"  Was !  "  said  Emery  Ann.  "  He  is  —  if  anything.  And 
he  '11  continyer  to  be  !  " 

Emery  Ann  is  very  skittish  for  Edith.  She  sets  her  dear  old 
heart  upon  her  very  much. 

"  Well?  "  I  asked  inquiringly ;  for  it  was  n't  worth  while  to 
lay  great  emphasis  on  that,  after  all. 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  salle  a  manger,  and  went 
in.  Edith  answered  me  after  we  had  seated  ourselves,  and  given 
our  brief  orders. 

<:  That  was  almost  all ;  only  when  we  got  to  the  bureau,  and 
1  gave  your  name  to  the  clerk,  and  asked  him  to  look  for  the 
number,  and  send  somebody  to  show  me  the  way,  he  had  n't  the 
name  at  all !  He  had  just  sent  around  to  several  rooms  for 
names  of  new  arrivals  ;  there  had  been  a  good  many  this  even 
ing,  and  things  were  n't  settled.  '  We  '11  take  all  the  new  num 
bers,  and  go  round  to  them  all,'  said  Mr. ." 


344  SIGHTS  AND  INSIGHTS. 

"My  gracious!"  said  Emery  Ann.    Edith  stopped,  astonished. 

"  Well,  we  did  n't,"  she  said  simply.  "  Because  the  man  came 
back ;  and  you  had  signed,  Emery  Ann  ;  and  it  was  Number 
90.  And  the  clerk  himself  went  up  to  show  me,  and  Mr.  Hola- 
bird  went  as  far  as  he  was  going  before  "  — 

"  And  told  you  his  name  ?  "  Emery  Ann  took  the  anxiety 
all  off  my  hands. 

"  The  clerk  called  him  so.     At  least,"  she  said,  imitating  the 

9  '  O 

broken  English  funnily,  —  "  he  called  him  Meester  Holy-beard. 
And  he  explained  to  me.  You  know  he  would  n't  like  to  be 
remembered  by  such  a  name  as  that.  And  I  am  sure  I  should 
never  have  forgotten  it." 

I  saw  unutterable  things  in  Emery  Ann's  face,  and  I  pulled 
her  gown  under  the  table.  What  was  the  use  in  uttering  ?  That 
is  exactly  what  makes  the  awkwardness. 

The  next  morning,  out  in  the  garden,  the  youth  lifted  his  hat 
to  Edith,  walking  with  me.  At  night  again,  he  was  opposite  to 
us  at  dinner,  and  we  fell  into  some  little  conversation  over  table 
civilities,  as  American  travelers  do.  In  the  drawing-room,  af 
terward,  he  begged  leave  to  make  himself  properly  known  to 
me.  He  knew  we  were  Strongs,  of  Boston.  He  is  of  Massa 
chusetts,  also ;  a  son  of  one  of  the  Holabirds  of  Z ;  Mr. 

Stephen  Holabird ;  and  that  is  his  name  too.  I  had  heard  of 
the  Holabirds  ;  they  are  old  manufacturers  there  ;  a  nice  family. 
And  this  young  Stephen  is  a  nice  fellow,  too.  I  won't  be  sure 
of  men  —  most  men  —  after  thirty.  But  I  can  tell  a  fresh, 
good,  bright  fellow  of  eighteen. 


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